


To Zero

by orphan_account



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Angst, Death, Heavy Angst, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I cried writing this, I'm Sorry, Jinwoo cries a LOT, Lots of Crying, M/M, Minho is whipped :(, No Beta, RIP, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sad, Seunghoon is a jerk, Smut, Suicide, The Author Regrets Nothing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Yoon deserved better, actually a lot of smut, actually big rip, kind of frustrating, not graphic though i promise, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:21:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21833605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: There was an ocean surrounding him.It was like the sky. And no matter what direction he went in, he only sank deeper and deeper.There was no way out. There was no one to save him. There was only him and the sinking.
Relationships: Kang Seungyoon/Kim Jinwoo, Kim Jinwoo/Lee Seunghoon, Kim Jinwoo/Song Minho | Mino
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> my angst and sunwoojunga's 'to zero' was the fuel to this story, please give it a listen, it literally sounds like sweet death. there's seriously no other way to describe.
> 
> and: what!!! the!! heck!!!! there is no taehyun in this i'm so sorry, even though he was SUPPOSED to have been involved, but my plan for him was going to make the plot WAY more complicated. i spent a whopping month finishing this though, but i'm, uh,,, not mad about it.
> 
> enjoy...? no, no, if it made you at least a little sad plz let me know though, tyty. i want to know if my sadness paid off because i literally cannot write angst unless i am sad myself ha rip. sorry for the long author's note, i just want to get some stuff in since i won't make any notes between chapter unless it's for warnings, and i think that only occurs once.
> 
> okay, on to the fic. leave feedback if you wish! thank you~

Jinwoo was going to hell, and he probably shouldn’t have been as comfortable with that idea as he was. He was sure, however, that there was no point in crying over that thought, because his drive to live was more powerful than his religious affiliations, as it had been for months already, so he was going to hell, and that was that. Jinwoo was going to hell, but he was going to live longer than any of the other fools he’d met in his days of travel, of wandering.

On nights when he allowed regret to trickle behind his eyelids in the form of tears he would refrain from letting fall onto his cheeks, he thought that maybe it was better if he died sooner - he would at least die pure, would he not?

But even though Jinwoo could edgily say he was going to hell, like an angsty poem he would have written when he was in high school, the far more tangible thought of dying much sooner than foreseen scared him further than that of which he could wrap his head around.

“D-Does it feel good?”

The guy under him was probably in his forties, and from Jinwoo’s previous encounters, he could say men like him made up most of his demographic. Wow, he sounded like a fucking marketing agent. Unnamed-man no. x had a hard time breathing when Jinwoo clenched around him, and Jinwoo entertained the idea of him maybe being a little older, since he was completely wheezing his lungs out as he tried to answer Jinwoo. He looked mere seconds from passing out, the pathetic man.

“Fuck, yes,” he nodded, closing his eyes and gripping Jinwoo’s naked hips tighter than he had been before. He was close, and this was confirmed to Jinwoo when the guy groaned, reaching out to Jinwoo’s shoulder to shove their chests close, managing a shaky, “I’m gonna come. Go faster, _whore_.”

His breath was absolutely horrid, and Jinwoo found himself squeezing his eyes shut in pain rather than pleasure. “Do it,” Jinwoo ordered, moaning fake into his neck after. His theatrical performance seemed to do it for the guy, as he groaned again and emptied his load into the condom Jinwoo had made sure he wore. Jinwoo felt sore, and this was mainly due to the fact that the guy was old, which meant Jinwoo had to do all the work. He was exhausted, but thankfully so was the man, who didn’t even wait to see if Jinwoo was finished before pulling out and sighing, dozing off after a moment.

Jinwoo slowed his movements to a stop and finally got off of him with a look of disgust, feeling his skin crawl like it usually did whenever he did… _this._ He’d learned to numb out all feelings by now, but Jinwoo wasn’t a fucking robot - or a mindless, diseased _shell_ like more than half of humanity seemed to be at this point.

He shivered as he sat there next to the sleeping man, in the back seat of an old car, holding his clothes up to his chest as he waited to make sure the guy was definitely asleep. About an hour passed, and in that time, Jinwoo briefly wondered what the man was dreaming about, if he he’d had a family. Probably. Jinwoo had once had a family too, but no one fucking watched _him_ sleep and pondered over his dreams. So that didn’t matter soon, not when Jinwoo had dressed himself again, and definitely not when Jinwoo got a look at what the man had stashed in the trunk of his car. He picked out three water bottles, a can of corn, batteries, and _peanut butter._ Fucking peanut butter! In the current world’s condition, Jinwoo might as well have found a Rolex.

Jinwoo happily stuffed his new stuff in his backpack, and after making sure the guy had not woken up during his search, quietly shut the trunk door and hurried off down the clearing they were in the middle of.

It was late, and in his defense, he often waited until morning to leave from wherever it was he found himself in, at least until the sun had risen, but Jinwoo could not fathom staying in that cramped car with that man any longer than he had to.

Slowing his steps once he had made it out of the clearing and out onto the road, Jinwoo wearily threw his surroundings a glance. _Okay,_ he tried calming himself, suddenly feeling as if leaving at this hour had not been too good of an idea. He had no clue where he was. “Shit.” It was easily past three in the morning, but the sun wasn’t going to rise any time soon, and he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to walk for so long. He hadn’t properly slept in a couple of days already, and it was as if the darkness were only encouraging him to succumb into the heavy weight that lied on top of his eyelids.

Jinwoo had learned that sometimes the ‘sane’ people that still remained could be scarier than those that had completely lost it. Not to be poetic, again, or anything. In a more prose-like sense - realistically speaking - at this hour of night, the diseased were the ones he should have been more worried about, but his awareness that he had just done something that could quite possibly piss someone sentient off made him a little more nervous about the man or anyone else he could run into. It was as if the eyes of a higher power were watching him, formulating some sort of punishment for his wrongdoings. Jinwoo hadn’t a clue why he was thinking all these things at such an hour. Maybe it was one of those nights, where he felt guilty, or at least something that resembled guilt.

Jinwoo had had a dream recently. He died in the end. A faceless woman had led him to a riverbank and then into a large door at the end of it. She’d told him to walk in, tempting him with food and goods, and of course, his dream version of himself was not gifted with the wits his real self was. So, he walked in. That’s what he remembered at least. The door closed behind him, and he quickly realized the room he was in was not a room at all, but a tunnel of sorts. He walked. He walked for what felt like an eternity, until a man appeared, with a face so grotesque Jinwoo was surprised hadn’t immediately woken up, telling him he was in hell, and that there was no way out. Then he…Jinwoo didn’t remember anymore, what it was that had happened after that, but he remembered dying, and when he woke up that morning, he’d promised himself to not read Dante’s Inferno before going to bed ever again.

Maybe Jinwoo was walking through one of the circles of hell now. Maybe he was already dead.

The thought creeped Jinwoo out a little, so he stopped thinking completely and only walked until his legs began to burn.

When was the last time he’d had a meal? He wasn’t sure anymore. Jinwoo was only aware of the ache in his back, caused by the several bottles of water and cans weighing him down. Fuck, this had been a bad idea. He was walking down what seemed to be a high bridge, a wave of vertigo washing over him as a stream of water rushed dozens of meters below him. He didn’t even know if he was walking further into the woods or out of them, he had no clue what direction this was. That was not the only bridge, there were maybe four others, if the map he’d stolen from that dead guy about a week ago was trustworthy. No, he was heading out of the woods, towards the town nearby.

Jinwoo hairs stood on end suddenly when a flash of light glowed from behind him, his own shadow stretching in front of him like a specter. A car. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._

He moved closer to the edge of the road, thankful to at least be off the bridge already, and kept his head low, looking at anything but the car that was definitely slowing down. He was no longer tired; he no longer had the need to sleep. This is what drove him. His flight instinct. For a moment, he debated whether to wait it out or run - as fast as possible, as fast as he could with the weight of his bag combined with his lack of nutrition. But the car sped up whenever he did, until it stopped next to him, a dull hum filling his ears. He too stilled.

Jinwoo heard a window roll down, a whistle and then a shout of ‘Hey, you!’, but he didn’t stop to chat, letting his hair cover the side of his face in the form of some barrier, the only one he could provide for himself. There was a knife in the front pocket of his bag. If he moved fast enough, if he really tried-

“What do you have there, ah? Mind sharing? We’ll let you spend the night with us,” a guy called, emitting a round of laughter from the others in the car with him at the suggestive addition. They didn’t sound too old, not as old as the men Jinwoo usually found himself pick-pocketing, but they were still fucking perverts and that was all that mattered, really.

“We’re _TALKING_ to you!” another shouted into the otherwise silent night, piercing what had once been _quiet_ uneasiness. Now Jinwoo was only uneasy, but it was no longer because of his wild imagination.

Jinwoo stiffened when he heard the vehicle softly beep at the opening of a door, turning slowly to look at the group. He could see them clearly now, and he no longer was the one being illuminated and singled out, since they’d turned their headlights off. The only source of light besides the night sky was that of the ones within the car, and Jinwoo tried making out their features, to check if maybe, _maybe_ he had the chance of overpowering them. But he knew he was only kidding himself; there were three, and they were clearly better fed than he was.

“Come here,” the one in the backseat finally ordered, voice eerily level.

But like hell was Jinwoo going to listen, no matter how fucking terrified he was at the moment. He wasn’t going to screw _himself_ over, ruin his _own_ chances. He clutched his backpack straps and slowly backed away as much as he could without tripping, keeping his eyes on the men. And then he ran. Maybe his mistake had been not running _directly_ into the woods. The line he was running in wasn’t completely parallel to the road, but it wasn’t angled enough to where he was covered by the foliage within a few seconds of running. He wasn’t thinking logically, all he needed to do was run away, and his desire to do so only intensified when he heard the stomach wrenching sound of footsteps behind him.

Jinwoo really did consider throwing his backpack, and in retrospect, he should have, but it didn’t matter anymore, not when his face met with the ground, not when all the air was knocked out of his lungs, not when dead leaves tangled themselves into his hair as his possessions were ripped off his back by one of the guys and his body forced down by another.

“Why’d you run?! Why did you _fucking_ run?” the guy on top of him demanded, slapping him once, _hard,_ to accent his point.

Jinwoo’s cheek stung as he cried out. They only laughed, seeming to find that amusing, and Jinwoo’s eyes widened in horror when he felt hands tug at his pants, shaking his head frantically. “J-Just take my things,” he urged, trying to wriggle out of the man’s grasp, “but don’t hurt me, _please._ ”

“Dude, it’s a fucking guy,” the one standing groaned, sounding disappointed. Maybe they would leave him then… maybe they would not do anythi-

“A bitch is a bitch. Can’t be picky now.”

A sob escaped Jinwoo’s throat, his brain clouding over as he realized what was going to happen if he could not manage to run away. “W-What? Ple-”

There was a scoff, a ‘You guys are gross,’ and then the one that had said it walked off, leaving the other two to hover over Jinwoo, hands roaming over his body in a newfound interest. “Hm, never been with a man before.”

Jinwoo wanted to burn his skin off, peel it away. _How is this any different from what you always do? What’s changed?_ No, Jinwoo didn’t want this. _You deserve it, for all that you have done and for all you have failed to do._

“Stop!” Jinwoo cried, shying away from the hand that soon gripped his face. He could feel the insides of his cheeks pressing against his gums and teeth painfully, the guy’s fingers digging into where he’d slapped him.

The skin felt red, raw. Jinwoo’s entire being was on fire. He was burning and it was every bit as horrible as could have imagined.

“He’s so pretty though,” the guy marveled, letting go of Jinwoo’s face in exchange for his hair. He yanked it in one harsh movement, and Jinwoo screamed, trying to free his hands from under the man’s knees to release his grip on him.

“Leave me the _fuck_ alone!” Jinwoo whimpered, angry. Angry with himself, with them, with Seungyoon, with everyone that had left him, with his family, with…God. Jinwoo hated God in that moment, for abandoning him. Jinwoo remembered his father once saying that God did not abandon his children, that _they_ abandoned him with their decisions. But Jinwoo did not know what to believe anymore.

“Hah, he’s really putting up a fight,” the guy holding his legs down laughed breathlessly, sounding uncertain, “You sure you want to-?”

“Just help me take his clothes off. I’ll deal with this.” Then – a hand on his throat. Jinwoo’s breath hitched and his heart did too many things at once, a tiny mewl of fear bubbling out of his lips. His legs felt cold, and he couldn’t tell whether it was because of the fear coursing through his veins or because his pants had been shoved down to his ankles.

“N-No- please-”

“Shh, shh.” Jinwoo felt both hands now, wrapping around his throat and he blearily stared up at the sky as his scream was cut off.

Wait. Was this a dream? It had to be. What kind of sick shit was his brain coming up with?

No, this was no dream, nor even a nightmare. This was real. This was… _real_.

No, no, no, no-

He was going to die. He was going to die, he was going to die, hewasgoingtodie.

He was going to _die._ He wasn’t going to exist anymore.

Everything had led up to now. And it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t; he didn’t want to die. But he was _going_ to. His heart sped up at the mere thought.

He couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t save himself. He was going to die, and the world would continue to go on without him. No one would even know. No one was there to miss him anymore. _Seungyoon wasn’t there._

The pressure around his neck became stronger, firmer.

The world would continue, his body would decay, biological means would take care of his decomposing body, the animals would do their job and make him one with the earth floor, he would rot, and he would be gone. The river nearby would continue to flow, the sun would rise, the moon would fall, the stars would continue to shine. He was going to die, and it was impossible to wrap his head around.

Nothing. There would be nothing. Not even darkness, no cold, _absolutely_ nothing. That was impossible. It was impossible yet so eminent, like a heavy mass, and it was looming over him, and it was coming to take him.

Jinwoo stared at the stars through his spotted vision. _He was so afraid._ If he thought hard enough, searched deep enough within his brain, he thought he could imagine Seungyoon’s soft voice.

 _Ursa major, minor, Leo minor, there’s Regulus-_ Nothing. And there was no possible way being afraid now.

****

****


	2. Chapter 2

There was a lot of pain. Jinwoo did not need to open his eyes to notice that at first. The pain, the aching. Was he in hell then? Surely, there was no pain in heaven, that was what he had been taught. Yes, he decided then, he must be in hell. The sky was dark, he was freezing. He thought hell was fiery. It was _raining._

What?

Jinwoo remained in his lied down position, feeling the damp ground against his bare back. Why was he naked? He could smell the wet earth, and the smell reminded him so much of the tree nursery Seungyoon worked at, he wanted to cry in anguish. _Seungyoon_.

Suddenly, as a clap of thunder erupted from the sky, from the _heavens,_ Jinwoo came to understand that he was not in hell. He wasn’t even dead. _Purgatory?_ No, he was alive; the pain was real, the rain was real, the thunder, the leaves - all of it. It was all real. Jinwoo sucked in a breath as he sat up, watching as the rain washed away the dirt on that had been sticking to his legs and arms, to his chest. It washed away the bits of leaves and twigs in his hair, the drying blood on his palms, the scrapes on his legs. But the pain remained, the bruises bloomed as blue and violet as ever, the small cuts stung, and the sensations brought Jinwoo to more tears. Why was he alive? Why wasn’t he dead? Was he happy with this outcome? Was he sad? He didn’t know. Jinwoo didn’t fucking know anything anymore.

He looked around the ground for his clothes, his bag, and he felt a broken scream force its way out of his bruised neck when he found nothing but his jacket and a single sneaker. It was an angry sound, sorrowful, mourning the loss of not only his physical items, but his self-worth. As unfathomable as it seemed, Jinwoo had still held a whole lot of dignity despite his questionable ways of getting his necessities. He knew it did not actually make him any less of a person. He needed to get by, he needed to live. But now, everything had been stripped away from him, against his own _will._ Seungyoon was not there to protect him, Jinwoo had to protect himself now and he had failed. He had failed, he was _useless_. Jinwoo tried screaming again. And again. And again and again and again until his throat was raw with the effort and all he could do was choke out tiny sobs. His tears mixed with the rain, and he knew there was no point in rubbing them away, but he clawed at his face with the pads of his fingers as he shakily stood, feeling so exposed yet so alone in the middle of nowhere.

Jinwoo reached down to pick up his jacket, tremors running through his frail body, and though it was dripping with as much water as he was, he tugged it on anyways, wrapping it close to himself. He had just survived the events of the previous night. Was this a second chance? He was most certainly going to ruin that chance if he remained out here in the open. He’d die of hunger, exposure, maybe an animal would pick him off.

His feet carried him in a semi-familiar direction until he stumbled out onto the same road he had been walking down before, feet slapping against the wet concrete, slipping into potholes. At some point, he tripped and he fell to the ground, pathetically so, his fall aided by the merciless wind. Jinwoo couldn’t move anymore. He was in so much pain. It hurt to even breathe. He left whatever hope for a peaceful death he’d had behind entirely. His chest rose and fell unsteadily, as if threatening to give up on him at any moment. His bones ached with the cold. This way of death, this ending, was much more excruciating than the one from the night before. Jinwoo didn’t even know if it had been a night. It felt like the afternoon now - two days could have passed for all he knew.

The rain continued to beat down onto him, the drops thumped and resonated within his skull. Fuck. He really hoped he died this time. He hoped he stayed dead. He closed his eyes, hoping for God or Satan or whoever decided to take mercy on him to take him out of his misery.

-

Jinwoo liked to think it was mere luck that had brought him to _them._ To the two boys with big jackets and even bigger blankets. He didn’t believe in fate, though he did believe everyone had _some_ sort of purpose. And Jinwoo didn’t know his own yet, but he also believed only some were lucky enough to find it in their lifetime.

Fate did not join his path with the two strange boys, but a stroke of luck did, or at least he thought so, and that was how he woke up under an old, decayed looking roof, the rain pitter-pattering incessantly in heavy, ugly drops.

It was luck that he was alive, wrapped in a warm blanket and not the freezing cold that had once iced over his brain, killing all sentient thought.

And it was luck that when he opened his eyes, one of the warmest smiles he’d seen in a while was shone in his direction, even if it seemed mostly worried if anything. “Oh! You’re awake. I- How do you feel?”

His voice was low and soft, not too loud to where Jinwoo’s headache intensified, but loud enough to where he could be heard clearly over the storm raging outside what Jinwoo came to understand was actually one, big room, a cabin maybe.

Jinwoo did not make any attempts to speak, for he felt as if his throat was going to bleed and collapse in on itself from the mere effort, but he held the blanket closer to himself and shivered, a sigh coming out his nose. He didn’t feel himself unconsciously shy away from the other male at first, but as the guy blinked in silence at his lack of response and then nodded with an understanding smile, Jinwoo felt his eyes sting with the weird emotion of gratitude that suddenly came over his chest. He must look ridiculous. Why was this guy making him look ridiculous? On purpose?

Thankfully the guy did not seem to take note of his watering eyes, as he continued soon after, shifting around the pillow he was sitting on by the floor in front of the small fireplace. “My friend, uh - he made soup… It’s like a day old but, er,” he laughed, seeming nervous for some reason, and Jinwoo immediately tore his gaze away from anywhere near the guy’s face, figuring maybe he was staring and weirding the boy out, “Do you want some?”

Jinwoo opened his mouth to speak, shut it, then didn’t respond. His stomach hurt, but not in the sense that he was hungry, the thought of food only made his stomach churn. In the end, he shook his head slightly and the guy sort of nodded in return, understanding him just fine.

“Well,” he began with a slight nod of his head, “I’d leave you alone so you can rest, but it’s still raining, so…”

“It’s okay,” Jinwoo answered, his voice small. God, he felt so weak, unable to even properly speak for himself.

“Oh,” the guy blinked in surprise at the fact that he’d finally said anything, then smiled faintly and nodded again, “okay.”

The guy looked away after that, as if to give Jinwoo some form of privacy to sleep, but Jinwoo was rested enough, and it began to get a little awkward for him when he tried closing his eyes and no sleep came. He sighed, but didn’t make any moves to get up, since the blanket he was draped in gave him a comfort he had almost forgotten existed. He observed the guy discreetly, and luckily, the other was reading some comic book of sorts with a tired but absorbed expression. Jinwoo cleared his throat, attempting a smile when the guy’s eyes flicked up at the sound.

“Thank you,” Jinwoo said honestly, frowning for a split-second as disappointment in himself filled him once more. He hadn’t had a proper conversation anyone since…since… He blinked away any possible tears and swallowed dryly. His throat hurt so much, but he felt as if he owed it to this man to at least say _something,_ even to ask a few questions. “How did you…?” It pained him to continue, suddenly feeling embarrassed about the condition he must have been found in. Leave it to him to have almost died, and the first thing for him to worry about to be something so vain and trivial like his appearance. He then remembered his naked state, and it felt as if all the color that must have been missing from his face return, in twice the intensity. Yet, when he moved his legs under the blanket, he was more than relieved to feel the fabric of clothing rub against the blanket, serving to calm him just a bit.

“Well, we’ve been hiding out in this place for a few weeks already, so we were running low on supplies, and so my friend, Seunghoon, he left to get things in the car and then…he brought you back.”

Jinwoo hated the way his heart sort of stuttered when he heard the guy say his friend’s name. Hated the way it was so similar to _his._ To Seungyoon’s. Seungyoon… Jinwoo forced the sudden onslaught of memories back, the only thing he could do to stop himself from breaking down in front of this stranger. That was the one thing he’d gotten good at, holding back his emotions, suppressing his pain and pretending it didn’t exist. That was how he had survived for so long.

“I thought I was dead,” Jinwoo stated hollowly.

The guy said nothing of that, probably at a loss as to what he _could_ say, and only set his book down with a push at his black-rimmed glasses, “I’m Minho.”

“Jinwoo.” A pause. “Thank you for the clothes.”

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly blurted out, placing his hands over his reddening face, “Seunghoon told me to dress you. You were really cold - like, _blue -_ and so I…yeah. I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s fine,” Jinwoo assured, pushing the blanket lower and inspecting the blue sweater covering his torso, the sweatpants around his legs. He tried sitting up then, but his body was still trapped in one giant ache, and he winced rather obviously, arms slightly trembling with the effort.

“Ah, please just rest u-”

And as Minho was in the middle of panicking for his well-being, the dilapidated door of the cabin opened and in came in an annoyed looking man along with a giant gust of wind that made Jinwoo’s toes curl up a bit. Jinwoo did not know what sort of man he had been imagining when Minho had told him about this friend who made soup and went to search for food. Jinwoo did not know what sort of man to expect to have helped him, picked him up off the streets.

“There weren’t any crackers, sorry,” his level voice resonated within the room once the door closed, and Minho waved a hand at him, a ‘shh!’ erupting from between his teeth.

“You are so loud, Hyung,” Minho laughed, but the friend, who Jinwoo guessed must have been Seunghoon, only set the bag he’d been carrying down on a small table next to the bed.

He turned, and only then did he seem to remember Jinwoo’s presence. “ _Oh._ ” He threw Jinwoo a wary look suddenly, and Jinwoo wasn’t sure whether it was because he was worried about him, or worried about himself and Minho. Jinwoo was a stranger after all, it only made sense for him to be cautious. Seunghoon - yes, Jinwoo was certain this was Seunghoon - said nothing to him after that, and never had Jinwoo felt so small in his life. And it was not small in a bad way. He just couldn’t bear to look at Seunghoon for too long, he was…intimidating. _Great_ and _grand_. Despite his voice’s seemingly naturally cheerful timbre, he had a blank look on his face that did not waver, even when he spoke, and Jinwoo was reminded that this was the man who had found him, this was the man who had saved him.

“That’s Seunghoon,” Minho whispered after a moment. Jinwoo acknowledged him with a small nod. Seunghoon.

He laid back onto the bed, making himself disappear into the sheets and stared at Seunghoon’s back when he was sure no one could see where his sight was being directed towards. The other male was taking cans out of his backpack, organizing them in a tiny pyramid over the table. “I hope you’re feeling a bit better,” came Seunghoon’s voice after a minute or so, flat as ever despite his statement.

Jinwoo’s lips curled at the corners, “I am. Thank you.” And he knew he was now hopelessly, yet _so_ willingly, indebted to this man.


	3. Chapter 3

By the third night Jinwoo slept in the cabin with the two other males, he insisted on sleeping in front of the fire, in the bed of duvets Minho always fixed and adjusted throughout the day. He felt odd, having waltzed into these boys’ lives and taking over _their_ bed in _their_ shelter, _their_ time, since Minho had been adamant on basically spoon-feeding him so as to nurse him back to health. Sleeping on the floor was honestly the least he could have done, now that his body didn’t hurt whenever he so much as extended an arm.

It was strange… _living_ with the two. Jinwoo was not used to being in the same place for more than one day, much less two, three, four, five… He was already used to doing things on his own, obtaining his own materials, and this new, accompanied lifestyle was not easy for him to immediately get used to.

He kept to himself for the first week, in too much pain to even think about booking and leaving on his own. He owed it to the two to help, this he realized after yet another day of sleeping all day to regain all his lost power. And so he’d forced himself out of bed, hating feeling like a nuisance. He had offered to help Seunghoon with stuff around the perimeter in which the small cabin was located - traps for animals, covering up any drafts in the walls, anything really.

“I can do it on my own, it’s okay.”

Jinwoo had tried not being hurt when Seunghoon had shrugged him off that first time, thought that maybe he must’ve just been having a bad day. But Seunghoon seemed to be having a bad day…every day, and Jinwoo gave up after his fourth offer. Over the course the day, he’d help start the fire for the rainwater Minho boiled. Though he’d offer to do more, like actually go outside and bring in the large canisters of water, Minho always insisted that it was fine, and Jinwoo was once again left to remain with his arms crossed, feeling useless.

The more time he spent with Minho, the more he realized Seunghoon was rarely around, and when he was, he’d either sleep or fix the ceiling for leaks (and Minho always joked that when Seunghoon fixed one hole, three more would be made).

One day, when the rain had ceased and they could finally go outside without the threat of getting soaked, Jinwoo cried by the tree the boys would hang their clothes to dry at. He had painfully released it all, letting out a good sob he’d been holding in for the past few days, hiding away from the other two. It was all for a rather simple reason as well, it almost didn’t make sense. His backpack. No, it made so much sense. It hurt to even think that he didn’t have it, that when he opened the front pocket of it, he would find nothing, because there was no backpack pocket to look through in the first place. He had woken up that morning after a dream, a dream with _him,_ and he remembered, with a painful aching in his heart, that he had left his only memory of his old life behind in that bag. A picture, albeit crumpled. Scribbled writing on the back. A day at Imjado. _Seungyoon._

“Seungyoon,” he had outwardly sniveled out onto the sodden ground, inhaling the smell of the trees again in shaky intervals. His body, though healing, physically hurt at the mere thought of him. It was so melodramatic, and he hated how at Seungyoon’s mercy he had allowed himself to be in his previous life, how Seungyoon had made a home in his heart, how much he’d allowed himself to love Seungyoon. He figured that in his defense, no one would have expected the world to take such a turn, but Seungyoon could have left him in any other more normal circumstance, and he would have been just as devastated. There was not a single day where Jinwoo did not think of Seungyoon, but now…it was just one of _those_ days. One of those days where he wanted nothing else _but_ to die, nothing else but to disappear. Maybe that would end the pain.

And what had happened to him, back in the woods…It scared him, it reminded him of how _lonely_ and vulnerable he had become without Seungyoon, how he’d let himself be less careful about his life and decisions now that he had no one to actually live for, no one to worry about but himself, because a life without Seungyoon was not one really _worth_ living. Not really. He only lived, continued to live in his crushing, suffocating pain because he was even more scared to die. More scared to die than to live alone; more content with living alone than knowing he could die and all of Seungyoon’s efforts to protect him, to care for him, to _keep_ him alive had been in vain. He had _promised._ That night…it took a bit of the pieces he’d been rebuilding within himself - or trying to at least - and now not only were they smashed to bits again, they were gone, spread around the ground and missing completely, just like his backpack, just like his shoes, just like his clothes, just like his supplies, just like the picture, just like Seungy-

“Jinwoo?”

With a slight, startled jolt, he wiped his eyes and pretended to be tying the shoes Minho had given him, biting the inside of his cheek to hold back his sobs. Minho’s steps thumped softly against the ground until they hesitantly stopped in front of him. He knelt down in front of Jinwoo, an elbow on his knee.

“Hey,” he said, looking down at the ground, a pitying expression on his face. He had seen Jinwoo’s splotchy face? Yes, Jinwoo was sure of it, and now he probably couldn’t look him in the eye, uncomfortable for having seen something he was not supposed to have, uncomfortable for having seen him in his most weakest form, maybe weaker than how Seunghoon had found him, not that he had consciously put himself in such a state. “I’m going to try to find dry firewood. It’s getting colder so… Do you want to come with me? Get some fresh air?”

Jinwoo sniffed and shrugged, staring down at the earth. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Good, okay,” Minho offered a smile, carefully patting him on the shoulder. “Come on then.”

And Jinwoo followed along with him. How could he have not? He’d come to the conclusion that Minho was like a happy virus, one you couldn’t avoid no matter how much you wanted to wallow in your own misery.

Sometimes Jinwoo hated him for that.

Hated how happy he could be, how he made Seunghoon and him laugh, even when he didn’t want to. Even when Seunghoon didn’t want to – and Jinwoo had a sneaking suspicion Seunghoon was not one to laugh often. It angered him. But Minho meant no harm, and the longer Jinwoo spent time with him, the more he began to get the sense that Minho was trying to make some sort of impression. That assertion was especially strong when he heard Seunghoon and Minho speaking in hushed voices at night, making plans for the week, scheduling the next day. He had an air of sullenness when he spoke to Seunghoon, a soberness to his tone Jinwoo didn’t hear when _he_ and the younger guy spoke. He sounded so…tired. But when he and Jinwoo were together, Minho had a different persona altogether. His will seemed to bend at Jinwoo’s whim, tried to be Jinwoo’s sun, and Jinwoo felt a little blinded and dazed at times.

They didn’t find as much firewood as they could have that day, mainly because Minho spent the time talking to Jinwoo, as if attempting to get Jinwoo out of his own head. It was not a fruitless effort, Jinwoo was momentarily distracted of his affliction, but he knew it would only be a matter of time until he found the perfect opportunity, the appropriate time, to cry his heart out once again and try - hopelessly - to ease the pressure in his chest that seemed to be embedded into his every cell. Jinwoo didn’t remember crying as much as had been recently, but he came to realize that it was only because now there were others who could become aware of his crying spells. He was not alone now, there were others who would hear him sobbing quietly at night, holding his palms to his chest, rubbing at his eyes, and it made him understand just how out of touch with his emotions he now was, how they seemed to control him and not the other way around.

The first time Seunghoon came to him at night, it had startled Jinwoo, because when he felt someone settle themselves onto the floor next to him and ruffle his shoulder, it was Minho’s deep, velvet voice he had expected to hear, not Seunghoon’s tenor mutter. “What’s wrong?” he had asked; he’d sounded slightly annoyed. Jinwoo felt ashamed, ashamed of being caught in such a state, but also ashamed that he liked that it was Seunghoon who had approached him, even if he sounded seconds from snapping at him. “Why are you crying?” he then pressed. Jinwoo’s cries quieted to a sniffle, and he swallowed back a whine, not knowing what to say to such a question. “Did you…have a bad dream?”

Seunghoon ‘hm’d when Jinwoo failed to give him a response, and just as Jinwoo was going to make something up just so Seunghoon wouldn’t think he was some irrational, emotionally unstable, petulant _child_ , Seunghoon sighed, sighed deeply, and placed a hand on Jinwoo’s arm, _barely_ there, “Just try to sleep.” Jinwoo stiffened at the touch, wanting to take in every detail of the light sensation, but Seunghoon must have taken his reaction differently, since he soon retracted his hand and stood up after a moment.

“Sleep. Please.” And he left again, leaving Jinwoo to his own devices.

Jinwoo slept sound that night, and no dreams played behind his eyelids.

-

The day before the end of autumn was memorable, more memorable than any of the days prior to that. By then, Jinwoo had been with Minho and Seunghoon for just over two months; they never made any comments that suggested Jinwoo had overstayed his welcome, didn’t even talk about leaving the cabin themselves in exchange for somewhere closer to town. If they did, it was probably at night - but even then, when they spoke, thinking nobody was listening to them, Jinwoo heard every word. It wasn’t like he was purposely trying to eavesdrop, but it was kind of hard to tune them out when they all slept in a room the size of a small, studio apartment. Yet, Jinwoo never heard any mention of leaving, of him leaving, of anyone going anywhere, so Jinwoo figured that if they did have those conversations, it was only when they were certain Jinwoo was asleep. Jinwoo was sure there would be a time when he would leave, when he would feel unwelcome, when he would feel like a…leech, perhaps.

Or he’d thought so.

Winter. Everything changed before winter.

Jinwoo was with both boys when it happened. A hardware store, the gardening area. Seunghoon had said they needed to find something to grow that would survive through the winter, or _they_ would not survive the winter. Jinwoo had volunteered to go, he’d learned a few things after having been with Seungyoon for so long, and the knowledge that he had something to offer finally, something that _Seungyoon_ had given _him,_ made his heart swell with pride, and he had offered to accompany the two without an ounce of hesitance.

He’d been looking at a pouch of seeds, searching through his mind for the loads of information Seungyoon had once detailed to him, and that he’d now stored inside his brain - information Jinwoo thought he would never really use.

_“...They survive through the winter, but they only sprout again when spring comes. It’s like they slee- Ah, are you listening!?”_

_A laugh._ Jinwoo missed laughing. _“Yes, Yoonie, I’m listening, I’m listening! Go on.”_

“We can use these, I think, but not the-”

A crash. And maybe not even a crash, more like something toppling over, but in the quiet of the store, it might as well have been a bomb going off. They didn’t even have time to react before it came for Minho. Jinwoo felt his heart jump to his throat when he saw the yellowed eyes, the gray flesh, the _stench._ They say it rotted you from the inside out once the strange acid pierced through your skin, that you threw your brain fluid up first, and then your literal stomach. It was disgusting, horrible, and Jinwoo remembered for a moment why it was that he had wanted to remain alive.

Minho fell to the floor with it on top of him, a terrified cry escaping him, and Jinwoo only blinked, petrified. His body felt like it’d been dipped into ice, and it had been ages since he’d felt _as_ inept as he did right then.

Minho couldn’t die… Jinwoo saw the way Seunghoon looked at him, the way he seemed to strive to make sure he had everything he needed. And Jinwoo could not bear the thought of Seunghoon ending up like himself.

 _Who am I doing this for?_ He grabbed the nearest tool, a pair of gardening scissors, conveniently enough. Yes, that too had been luck. And he let his body work for itself, as his brain seemed to be telling him to do nothing else but get as far away from the two as possible. _Who am I doing this for?_ He aimed for the back of the neck, struck it once. He used all the strength he held in his arms, so much he was surprised it didn’t go through too hard and injure Minho in the process. _Am I doing this for Minho?_

Jinwoo retracted his arm, hearing Seunghoon’s steps rush to where they were. He had said something about batteries, about going to check for something, and Jinwoo was surprised he had not come running at the first sign of an unnecessarily loud sound. “Minho!” _Am I doing this because I really care for Minho? …_ Jinwoo let his arm come down again, drowning out the grotesque screech that he’d forced out of the diseased used-to-be woman. _Or am I doing this because I know it will make Seunghoon happy?_

Minho’s eyes were wide in fear when she was completely dead, but no tears fell from them, and Jinwoo had almost allowed himself to be irritated about that. Minho should have been crying, he had almost died. It was probably just the shock, but Jinwoo was still irked for some reason. Minho groaned as he pushed the corpse off of him and quickly stumbled to a stand, away from the wretched thing.

Jinwoo’s heart pumped harder than it had in a while, but when it slowed and he was finally able to look up, he saw Minho staring at him with a strange _glint_ in his eye. He looked at Jinwoo so…infatuatedly. Like Jinwoo had just saved his life. But of course, he had. No, there was something else there too. He looked at Jinwoo like…like…Jinwoo had just confessed his undying love to him or _something_.

…

_Oh._

And then Jinwoo understood.

Understood the meaning behind Minho’s alter ego, the touches that lingered for a split-second too long on his shoulders when he said goodnight, how he went out of his way to make sure Jinwoo was okay - the looks. _The_ looks. And it suddenly angered Jinwoo, because…that wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Minho couldn’t…like him. No. Jinwoo felt like he… _owed_ him something now, and he didn’t want to owe anyone something he couldn’t give.

Not even Seunghoon. Especially not Seunghoon.

And that was what angered him about his epiphany so much. He knew Seunghoon liked Minho, any fool could see it. Minho was supposed to like him back, they were supposed to like _each other._ He was supposed to make things easy for Jinwoo.

Jinwoo had almost ran away right then.

If Minho did not like Seunghoon, then no one but Jinwoo liked Seunghoon, and that opened too many doors of temptation, temptation that could have been avoided had Minho liked Seunghoon back. It tempted Jinwoo into wanting to be something of value to Seunghoon, now that Minho could not - did not want to - be that for him. It made no sense, but all the sense at the same time. Jinwoo just wanted Seunghoon to be happy, Seunghoon deserved that, all that and more. Minho was all Jinwoo could think of, and now he had taken that away from Seunghoon too, just like how he had taken up space in their cabin, just like how he had taken their clothes, their food, their warmth.

Maybe he _was_ a leech.

Jinwoo tore his gaze away from Minho, and his anger melted into some sort of melancholy when he saw Seunghoon staring at him too, but with an aggravation, a pain.

So the look in Minho’s eyes, the one when he looked at Jinwoo… it seemed Seunghoon had seen it too.

The end of autumn marked the start of what Jinwoo was sure was Seunghoon’s hatred towards him, and once again, Jinwoo found himself wanting to die.


	4. Chapter 4

Jinwoo was not surprised when Minho called his name, not too high up from the branch he had climbed on the tree, the same tree Jinwoo cried by sometimes. It was an old, crumbling thing, and Jinwoo was surprised it hadn’t collapsed when he had leaned against it for the first time, more so now that Minho was sitting on one of its branches. “Uh, Jinwoo-ssi?” It had snowed the night prior, and though Minho had tried ushering Seunghoon outside to join them, the older boy had declined and insisted he had other things to do. That probably meant sleep or make tea with the leaves they’d dried before the snow had come.

“Yes?” Jinwoo squinted and craned his neck back to meet Minho’s face, as he was currently eye level with Minho’s knees instead. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing…” Minho said, humming in thought slightly before sliding down onto the snow on his feet, puffing out a small breath, “I just need to tell you something.”

Ah. So there it finally was. Jinwoo, despite knowing what he was going to say, looked down at his feet and dug the front of his shoe into the snow, smiling. What else could he do? He had caused enough pain. He would not forgive himself for hurting Seunghoon, and he knew that if Minho got hurt, Seunghoon would probably only hate Jinwoo more for doing that to him. Jinwoo could not hurt one without hurting the other, _or_ even himself in the end it seemed. “What is it?”

“I…Jinwoo,” he felt Minho slip his hand into his, and Jinwoo felt an involuntary jolt in his stomach, which he knew was due to not having been in that nature of contact with anyone for a long, _terribly_ long time. And Jinwoo did not mean sex, he did not mean emotionless fucking for a stolen reward in the end - he meant hand holding, touches, hugs with meaning behind them. With thought, with- “I like you, Hyung…”

Jinwoo stared up at Minho, momentarily in a daze, unsure what to say despite having seen what was coming. Now that the moment was here, he had no clue how to respond. A lie? No. He figured he would have to respond in the only way he knew now, the only way he had learned to get things done in this new life. He licked his lips slightly, warming them up since they felt rather numb now with the cold, the conflicting emotions writhing in the pit of his stomach, the sadness, everything. And he kissed Minho, he kissed him, closing his eyes and simultaneously making an unspoken promise he was not sure he could even keep.

Minho’s lips were soft; the way he kissed was so hesitant, chaste, and it only saddened Jinwoo more than before. _If you like me so much, like Seunghoon back._ He attempted to deepen the kiss, to wheedle out any wicked side out of Minho, but was left unsurprisingly disappointed when the boy pulled back, holding Jinwoo’s face in his warm hands. He smiled, smiled so bright and sweet Jinwoo’s head ached. “I didn’t think you’d like me back.” _I don’t, Minho-yah. Not like that._ “You’re so beautiful and kind…I…”

Jinwoo smiled back as best as he could and wordlessly pulled them down to sit under the tree; he only kissed Minho again, hoping he would stop saying things that made him feel like scum. At some point, Minho got the hang of how Jinwoo was hoping he’d reciprocate the exchange, but just as his grip on Jinwoo’s sides got a little tighter, they heard the cabin door shut, and Jinwoo was forced to push Minho’s chest back slightly, a blush on his cheeks as he rubbed the side of his hand on his reddened lips. They broke away from each other, and Minho somehow managed to draw a decent tic-tac-toe board in the snow by the time Seunghoon came around the small abode to find them.

“Hey,” Jinwoo attempted when Seunghoon walked up to them, even throwing a smile in his greeting just for the hell of it.

Seunghoon’s expression remained blank, and in turn, Jinwoo had to bite back a hurt frown. Then Seunghoon took in the sight of them, an odd hint of suspicion in the way he looked at their red faces, their inclination towards one another… “It’s going to get dark soon. You guys should try to stay inside more during these times. You’re going to get sick and I’m not about to deal with that.”

“Hoon,” Minho said in slight amusement at his concern, “we’ll be fine.”

“No, I said come inside!” Seunghoon suddenly snapped, red creeping up his neck and ears as he finally allowed his irritation to come out. It surprised both of the boys on the ground, and Jinwoo was sure he had never heard Seunghoon _actually_ lose his temper, even if he always looked pissed off about something.

What surprised him more was when Minho snorted, as if brushing him off, and stood, holding a hand out to Jinwoo. “Come. Let’s go to the car.”

“Minh-”

“I don’t want to go inside with you if you’re going to act like a dick.”

Seunghoon’s face dropped into a look of regret, and he even tried to smile a bit as he backtracked, “No, I didn’t mean to sound-”

“It’s fine,” Minho muttered, having pulled Jinwoo up to his side now, “We’ll be back in a bit. Just go cool off or whatever. We can forget about it.”

Seunghoon’s lips formed into a thin line, and Jinwoo swore he saw his eyes shine, but Seunghoon had turned around already before he could be sure, and left, arms wrapped around his middle and head slightly bowed.

“He’s not happy,” Jinwoo stated, feeling a bit stupid immediately after for having said something so painfully obvious.

“Doesn’t matter.” _Yes, but it does-_ “Let’s go to the car.”

And by ‘let’s go to the car,’ Jinwoo had almost been sure he had made Minho crack, made something inside him stir, something evil - the perverse side all humans held inside them. But when they got into the car, the backseat no less, and Jinwoo sat across Minho’s lap, giving him his best bedroom eyes, the ones that made everyone else he’d met fall weak to their knees, and made moves to kiss him once more, Minho only hugged him and leaned back until Jinwoo was lied on top of him across the seat. Jinwoo was more than a little confused.

“I’m tired.”

Oh. “Oh.” Jinwoo sort of nodded, sort of tilted his head in confusion. He relaxed his body, or tried to at least, and molded into Minho nonetheless, directing his quizzical pout to the crook of Minho’s neck. His exhales were warm, and he felt a tiredness of his own start to cocoon his muddled brain. “Okay then.”

It was quiet for a while, and though Jinwoo had thought it was sleep that was going to accompany him soon, his mind began to wander again, restless, and his sleepiness escaped him. He thought at least Minho had fallen asleep, but as the sun began to set prematurely, as it did in the winter, the other boy sighed, curling a hand up into Jinwoo’s hair. “Jinwoo?”

“Yes, Minho?”

“I’m gonna seem really cheesy,” he began, and despite all his conflicted feelings, Jinwoo found a smile of his own form on his face when he heard the grin in Minho’s voice, “But you make me really happy.”

“Thank you,” Jinwoo heard himself respond, and though it confused him for a second after he had said it, he realized it was the only response that he could give that both made sense and was not a lie.

-

Seunghoon grew more and more distant from Minho and Jinwoo. It was frustrating. It was _horrible._ Every day that passed in which Seunghoon refused to talk to the two for more than five minutes at a time made some sort of icy barrier around Jinwoo’s chest freeze over more and more, losing all hope of thawing out at some point…

Jinwoo knew it was absolutely stupid. When had he and Seunghoon ever had some deep, philosophical conversation with one another, late at night, under the light of the moon? When had they shared a genuine smile? When had they taken a long walk together? When had they done anything at all to begin a real friendship with each other? Never. Not even once. That also pained Jinwoo. The knowledge that he could have - _should_ have - done something in the very beginning to make Seunghoon like him, at least as a friend. Jinwoo couldn’t even thank him properly for saving his life. _Was there a proper thank you for that, anyways?_ Jinwoo certainly thought he should have at least not let Minho fall for him so suddenly.

In the end, Jinwoo was left angrier at himself, for things he couldn’t control anymore but probably could have in the beginning. Or could he? He didn’t know anymore, not really.

The night he and Minho made love- no, not made love. It _felt_ that way, it felt the way you were supposed to make love: slow and soft and tender, but it had really only been having sex that felt like making love. Fucking that had been masked with _feelings._ For Jinwoo at least. Regardless, the night he and Minho had slept together for the first time, right before that chain of events in fact, Jinwoo had had another dream. It was different from any of the other dreams he’d had recently, had a different quality to it.

Seungyoon was in it. They were in their apartment again, and Jinwoo was surprised his dormant mind had envisioned the location so vividly, so clearly. Seungyoon was playing his guitar by the fire escape, not as quiet as he would have been, had they been inside, but mindful of their neighbors anyhow. The song was a bit fuzzy, Jinwoo had not dreamt an actual tune, but he did know it was one Seungyoon himself had come up with because he saw Seungyoon’s lips move - _I wrote that for you, did you know? What do you think?_

Jinwoo also wasn’t sure why he had not been able to hear Seungyoon’s voice. That was the saddest part of the entire dream. For that reason only, Jinwoo would have classified it as a nightmare. Was he forgetting Seungyoon’s voice? He realized then, in his dream, that it wasn’t really a dream at all, but some sort of memory. He’d looked at Seungyoon again, ready to tell him that, yes, he had liked the song, he’d loved it, but he couldn’t speak suddenly, and Seungyoon, having not heard him reply, only stared off at the expanse of the city, a slight smile on his face.

Jinwoo woke up then, unsatisfied and desperate to go back to sleep. He wondered if he went back to sleep, if the memory would pick back up where he left off and like how he remembered it, if he and Seungyoon would kiss, if they’d _make love_ like how he remembered they’d had. But the more vigor he put into trying to fall asleep again, the more the memory and sleep itself slipped away, until he was left to only stare at the wall with his eyes wide open and slick, threatening to pour at a moment’s notice.

“Minho,” he had whispered, patting and shaking the other boy’s back. Minho hummed in his sleep, but didn’t wake, and Jinwoo frustratedly turned him onto his back and shook his shoulders again. “Minho-yah.”

“Wha..? Whatisit?” Minho grumbled, reaching up a lazy hand to stroke the side of Jinwoo’s face.

“Make love to me.”

Minho’s exhale that he’d been releasing stuttered slightly and he seemed to wake up a little, hand pausing on Jinwoo’s cheek. “Y- What?”

“Please,” Jinwoo whispered, running his hands up the inside of Minho’s shirt, pressing a kiss to Minho’s neck, “I need it, please. Don’t you want to?”

Minho shivered, propped himself up on his side, and slid closer to Jinwoo so that their chests were flush against each other, “Yes, but are you sure you w-?”

“I’m sure.” Jinwoo turned to look over his shoulder, a weird pang in his gut when he saw Seunghoon’s sleeping figure by the fire, having replaced Jinwoo’s former spot weeks prior. “Seunghoon is asleep.”

“A-Alright, we have to be very quiet though,” Minho finally mumbled. They only kissed for a good five minutes or so, but then Jinwoo was expertly palming at the front of Minho’s sweatpants, and Minho easily slid them off after Jinwoo got a small groan of arousal out of him. And Jinwoo let himself slip into old habits, let himself do the only thing he was good for, and did what he hadn’t done in a while - let someone do what they wanted with him for something in return, only now he wasn’t going to steal anything, Minho was willingly handing him his heart, whether he wanted it or not.


	5. Chapter 5

“I think we should get haircuts. Shaving isn’t doing it for me anymore.”

Jinwoo paused his spoon that had been on its way to his mouth in the middle of the air at Seunghoon’s rather random suggestion one night over dinner. “Your hair looks good like that,” he told Seunghoon, eyeing his mop of brown hair he had tucked behind his ears.

“We look terrible.”

Jinwoo shrugged. He’d tried.

“Did you know Seunghoon’s mom owned a hair salon? He has his fair share of hair knowledge,” Minho informed Jinwoo with a teasing smile in Seunghoon’s direction, and Jinwoo looked at Seunghoon as if in search of verification to this information. Seunghoon looked away, in thought, and placed a hand on his chin.

“That doesn’t matter, I was just saying…”

“Let’s do it,” Jinwoo nodded.

He had almost expected Seunghoon to purposely ruin his hair, to give him an ugly haircut or something as revenge for everything he had done, but Jinwoo was rather content with the look he’d ended up with, surprised with what Seunghoon had managed to do with only a pair of scissors. Maybe it was the hard-to-get-a-look-with window they were observing their hair on; maybe Seunghoon was just good. “Seunghoon,” Jinwoo began after he’d patted his bangs down, boldly taking the taller boy’s hands in his and pretending to observe them. He felt Seunghoon twitch in slight surprise, but he didn’t pull away and Jinwoo looked up at him from under his eyelashes, smiling, “Are your hands made of magic?”

“I think they are,” Minho agreed, and Seunghoon…smiled. He smiled, and that was one of Jinwoo’s happier days.

Deep in the middle of winter, when they could no longer plant anything and couldn’t be outside for too long without running the risk of getting frostbite, they found themselves _forced_ to go outside, but only because they were running low on food, and Minho had almost passed out at some point due to sheer lack of eating anything for a day now, insisting that he had already eaten, only to give his food to Seunghoon and Jinwoo.

Jinwoo felt himself going a little stir crazy too, and that marked the second time where he had insisted on going outside and into town with the boys. It still made him wary, the thought that they could run into someone, anyone. Not just wary, no, it filled him with so much anxiety and dread he almost backed out immediately after having said anything.

“I can go,” Minho had offered, holding his head in his hands. His voice was dull, and even raising his head up to smile in what was supposed to have been reassurance seemed to be a draining task. “Really…”

“There’s no way you’re coming with us,” Seunghoon shook his head, as if it were a suggestion so bizarre it was plain stupid, “Look at you. I think Jinwoo should stay with you, actually.”

Jinwoo’s heart hiccupped against his own will, and he cursed how obvious he felt, shaking his head immediately and sitting up straighter on the bed. “N-No!” Minho and Seunghoon turned to him in surprise at his almost desperate tone, the former more confused - and maybe hurt - than the latter. “Uh…no one goes out alone, not in this weather.”

“He’s right,” Minho muttered, eyeing Jinwoo for a second. He looked away, a tired smile appearing. “I’ll just go to sleep.”

“I don’t want you to be alone…” Seunghoon said quietly with a sullen frown on his face.

“He’s not a kid,” Jinwoo stated, even _if_ Minho looked vulnerable and small in comparison to his usual self right then and there. But then again, what did Jinwoo know? Seunghoon looked at Minho with such care, a _sort_ of care Jinwoo was never going to find it in himself to have. And not that he didn’t care about Minho, he loved Minho, he was his only friend now really in this world, but he knew Seunghoon cared for him in a way that was just different. He needed Minho, to breathe, to live, to go on. Jinwoo didn’t, not to that extent. But if Seunghoon needed Minho, Jinwoo had to make sure nothing happened to their youngest.

For Seunghoon.

“Listen, it won’t take as long if we both go, so we can come back sooner,” Jinwoo reasoned. He turned to Minho as he said this, too scared to look at Seunghoon’s face as the other boy still seemed to be debating accepting these terms.

“Fine,” Seunghoon said after a moment, and only then could Jinwoo take a peek at him; though Seunghoon did not seem mad or distressed, he

showed no emotion at all and Jinwoo was left desperately trying to figure out what was going on in his head again. “I’m going to start the car and warm it up or whatever. Come out in a few minutes, there isn’t much gas left.”

“Right,” Jinwoo nodded, watching as Seunghoon zipped his jacket up, his lips tugged down. Jinwoo wished he could make him happy. He wished Seunghoon would let him make him happy. Jinwoo wanted a purpose, and he wanted Seunghoon to give it to him. _Why Seunghoon of all people? Of all **two** people. Seunghoon? Who doesn’t even like you? Why? _Jinwoo hated the questions his own conscience pestered him with, so he pushed them aside, blinking out into the empty room after Seunghoon left.

“Hey,” he began in Minho’s direction, his voice soft and caring. It did hurt to see Minho so down and lifeless, it hurt a lot actually. Jinwoo’s heart melted a little, and he found himself kneeling next to the bed caressing Minho’s hair. “We’ll be back soon, okay? I promise.”

“Don’t hurt yourself, please,” Minho frowned, holding Jinwoo’s hand that had been touching him, “Be careful.”

“We will,” Jinwoo smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Minho smiled back to the best of his ability when he pulled back, and Jinwoo stared into his eyes, as if trying to convey through that look that, yes, everything was going to be okay, that he had nothing to worry about. Because he didn’t, and Jinwoo promised himself this too.

“Jinwoo…” Minho began, looking unsure to continue. He inhaled and parted his lips as if making moves to go on but shut them again. Never had Jinwoo seen someone look so tortured and conflicted before, and something seemed to dawn at him, and maybe it was the blush on Minho’s cheek, or the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, nervous. “I…love you. You d-don’t have to say it back but I- You know, I had to _say_ it. I needed to. Dammit,” he stopped himself after his admission and turned on his back, holding his hands over his eyes as if he regretted having let that slip out or too mortified to look at Jinwoo.

“I love you, too,” Jinwoo blurted. _Liar. You’re a liar._ No, Jinwoo wasn’t lying, was he? _I love you, but just not the way you love me._ That internal addition reverberated in his mind, and it did not make Jinwoo feel any better. He wasn’t lying, but without that added bit, he might as well have been. Minho didn’t know that, Minho didn’t take it that way, he didn’t read _minds_. And therefore, Jinwoo was the greatest liar of them all. He pecked Minho on the corner of his mouth with a sad smile that he made sure Minho did not see, as he hugged him soon after and hid his disappointed grimace in Minho’s warm embrace. _I really am a bad person._ “Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake.”

Minho pulled away from the hug and nodded, seeming to be content with that, and never had Jinwoo actually loved him, in his own sort of love for the younger boy, so much - because Minho was just so easy to make happy, to please. He must have liked Jinwoo a lot. That did put more pressure on Jinwoo, increased his guilt levels until they were overflowing into a pool of shame, but it made him appreciate the boy now dozing off in the old mattress a bit more.

Jinwoo placed a hand over Minho’s cheek one last time, picked his emptied backpack up and then headed towards the door, into the snow floating in brutal blizzards outside. He instinctively pulled the neck of his coat up a bit closer to his face, running slightly through the snow to get to the car faster. Seunghoon had his hands on the steering wheel, a far-off look on his face as if he’d been having the most intriguing flight of fancy. “Sorry,” Jinwoo apologized once he was in and had shut the door. He did not know, not clearly, what it was he was apologizing about. Maybe for taking too long, maybe just for being a terrible human being. Seunghoon didn’t have to know that, though Jinwoo was sure he suspected it.

“It’s fine, let’s just get this done. We’re driving farther away because there’s literally nothing left in the places nearby.”

“Do we have enough fuel?”

Seunghoon squinted his eyes as he began to drive out of the makeshift camping area, as if Jinwoo had just asked the dumbest question he’d ever had to hear. “ _Yes,_ I wouldn’t be driving or waiting for you to…kiss Minho goodbye if there wasn’t enough.”

“Right.” _God, I wish you didn’t hate me. I wish you could see the truth to all this. I wish you could understand what you actually mean to me._ “That was dumb, sorry.”

Seunghoon hummed, in acknowledgement, in agreement? Who knew, but Jinwoo sunk into his seat, eyes shifting anxiously across the icy road. Seunghoon drove slow because of it, but with an obvious impatience, and Jinwoo had to suffer in silence for longer than necessary as a result.

The drive consisted of Jinwoo staring out his window, vigilant and with something gnawing at his stomach, and Seunghoon only looking forward with the same stoic expression. Jinwoo felt like sighing every now and then, actively showing his unease, but he refrained from doing so, not wanting to annoy Seunghoon any more than his mere existence already seemed to.

It was going on an hour when they finally crossed into another town, the drive having been prolonged by the frozen ground, and Jinwoo noticed even Seunghoon perk up a bit in his car seat, alertly looking around for any remote signs of danger. “Keep your eyes open.” It was all around them, the danger.

Jinwoo nodded slightly, teeth grazing his bottom lip. His palms were a bit sweaty, despite Seunghoon not having turned the heater on too high to save fuel. They pulled to a stop next to a rundown shop after what felt like ages, and Seunghoon killed the engine and stilled, completely silent.

The seemed to scrutinize the situation carefully, but the stalling only made Jinwoo even more nervous than he already was. As he waited for Seunghoon to say anything, anything at all, he thought of all the times he and Seungyoon had tried obtaining food, how much they’d walked, how tired Jinwoo had felt because they didn’t have a car to go in. Even then, Seungyoon had given him a sort of energy - a _fight_ \- that had helped Jinwoo persist and withstand it all. Seungyoon had had such a natural, unintentionally uplifting nature, and that, too, was another bullet on the endless list of things that Jinwoo had loved about him. And now, as he waited for Seunghoon’s next move, he couldn’t help but think of those moments, longing for them more and more as the seconds ticked by.

“Let’s go…please,” Jinwoo said quietly, tired of waiting. Seunghoon turned to him, giving him a rather earnest look.

“We can’t jump into things. Do you want to get hurt?” Jinwoo could think of other things he had jumped himself into, and all the hurt that could come out of that. His reflection on his self-inflicted woes momentarily distracted him from Seunghoon’s rhetorical question, and it seemed to have been enough level-headed hesitance to reply for Seunghoon to think Jinwoo wasn’t a suicidal case. “Alright then,” Seunghoon finally decided, making Jinwoo blink as he was withdrawn from his thoughts. Seunghoon turned forward and eyed a small corner store, his forefinger tapping against the steering wheel, “So - that place. It’ll probably be raided by now, but it won’t hurt to try looking for something. Let’s focus on food for now.”

Jinwoo looked around at the seemingly empty, dead streets, his stomach jumping around now that he realized they were really going to head out now, “What do you want me to do?”

“Just stay behind me and keep a lookout.”

“Seung,” Jinwoo frowned, not feeling as if he’d been given too useful of a task, “I want to _do_ something to help.”

“Just do what I say, Jinwoo!” Seunghoon said in exasperation, craning his head to give him a pointed look, “I can’t have you get hurt. I can’t do that to Minho.”

And though Jinwoo knew exactly what he was talking about, though he did the _exact_ same thing with Minho because he couldn’t bear to see Seunghoon hurt, he recovered from his slight falter as quick as he could manage to do so. In the worst way possible. “I get how much you like him, but I can take care of myself.”

Seunghoon stilled, tongue in his cheek, as if he had had some great scheme that had been foiled by none other than Jinwoo himself. It hurt for Jinwoo to admit it, to accept it loud: Seunghoon did not, would never, like him. And there was nothing he could do about. After a torturous, deafening silence, Seunghoon pursed his lips, like the way one would when something didn’t sit well with them. “We’re friends.”

“Yeah, I know that. But I’m not an idiot either. I know.”

“You don’t know anything about me - and I’m not talking about this to _you._ Let’s go.” Seunghoon reached across Jinwoo to open the glovebox, and Jinwoo could do nothing but truly understand how much he had fucked up. It stung. His words really fucking stung. _You don’t know anything about me._ It stung because it was true. Jinwoo felt like an idiot. Seunghoon was never going to like him anyways, was it really worth trying to get on his good side at this point? Jinwoo’s eyes widened slightly, for a moment forgetting what it was he’d been thinking, when Seunghoon retrieved a gun from the compartment. He nonchalantly tucked it into his belt, and when he noticed Jinwoo’s eyes trained on the weapon, he paused, hand on the car door. “What?”

“How did you get that?”

“I was a police officer before all this happened. Didn’t know that, right?” His question was one that did not warrant a reply, so Jinwoo only looked away, hating how Seunghoon’s annoyed tone affected him. _God, I really am a fuckin-_

Seunghoon got out of the car and Jinwoo quickly followed, goosebumps raising on his skin as they entered the biting cold. “Ever since all this shit happened, I’ve only shot this once.”

“Why?” Jinwoo asked. He was mad, but at the moment, his fear muffled that feeling a bit, and he was more than happy to make conversation for distraction.

“It’s a long story.”

“Is it? Or do you just not want to talk about it?”

And Seunghoon fucking smiled. He smiled, and Jinwoo didn’t know whether it was fake or real, whether he’d finally said the right thing or messed up again completely. “You figure it out.” _Is he naturally cryptic or just a fucking jerk?_

They made it in a few hurried steps over to the corner store but stopped when they noticed the door had already been broken. “There’ll still be stuff, there has to be,” Jinwoo encouraged, figuring that if he couldn’t help in any other way, he’d bring a bit of optimism to the situation, even if he was probably the least fit to do such a thing. It felt almost unnatural having such hope - that was Minho’s thing, not his. But for Seunghoon, he would try his best. For Seunghoon, he would do all of that and more.

Seunghoon didn’t reply, only nodded the slightest bit, and motioned for Jinwoo to stand back as he pushed the door open, hand poised over his belt. He really did look like a police officer, like the ones on TV, Jinwoo noted. He’d never met a police officer in real life, except in primary school during career day. He had only known his friends from his department at work, and they had all been accountants like him, so there weren’t that many exciting, captivating stories he could share. Jinwoo decided, however, that he really wasn’t an accountant anymore, and Seunghoon wasn’t really a police officer. It was probably just him being bitter though, since the rational side of him could admit that it was probably better to have skills left over from having a career in a field such as law enforcement, than his own, now useless _statistics_ knowledge.

They hesitated a mere second at the door, and when nothing came attacking and foaming at the mouth at them, they entered, one behind the other, and took a moment to glance around the place; first at the basically empty shelves, then at the bloodied walls behind them and the dried, russet stains on the glass refrigerator doors.

“Go check the fridges,” Seunghoon instructed, staring down at the aisles of shelves with food, or whatever food was left. He gave Jinwoo a once-over before the other could go and nodded. “Be careful.”

“Right,” Jinwoo muttered, and off he went.

It wasn’t surprising that most of the food that was in the refrigerators was spoiled. He remembered when the remaining electricity had completely gone out midsummer. That was around the time everyone was seen forced to leave the safety of their house, and only then did the real decadence of the population begin. It’d been horrible, and while the freezing temperatures they currently found themselves in weren’t ideal, they could walk outside without the fear of suffering a stroke from the humid, choking heat.

Jinwoo didn’t bother checking most of the refrigerators, but he did manage to find some previously frozen fruits and vegetables that had once probably melted but were once again frozen now. Jinwoo considered that it was most probable that they had gone bad, but he stuffed them in his bag for the sake of not coming to Seunghoon empty-handed and confirm how useless he felt for the maintainability of their collective lives. After finding a few other used-to-be frozen, then melted, now frozen ‘goods’ (maybe?), he hurried back to Seunghoon, a bit anxious about being left alone. “Seunghoon,” he said before coming up to him, so as to not scare the other man. He had the gun after all. “I didn’t find much, but I got some stuff.”

“Good,” Seunghoon answered distractedly, eyes focused on their surroundings. “I have stuff too. So, if we’re good, I think we should go. This place is making me anxious as hell.”

They left then, and Jinwoo had never been happier to be in a silent car with Seunghoon. They drove in a new sort of calamity, their backpacks full and thoughts of a bettered Minho in mind, until…

_Ding. Ding. Ding._

“No, no, no,” Seunghoon frowned, surprising Jinwoo when he brought down a frustrated hand against the steering wheel. Jinwoo’s eyes widened in worry as Seunghoon pulled them over to a stop. He didn’t want to ask what was wrong, since it was pretty obvious what the hell was wrong, but he couldn’t stand Seunghoon’s angry silence, not when everything had felt so fine a mere minute before.

“We’ll make it back,” Jinwoo tried to spur him on, sitting up and turning in his seat to face the other, and placed what was meant to be a reassuring hand on Seunghoon’s tense shoulder, “Just keep driving, it’s okay, it’s just because…we drove slow because of the snow and had the heater on, but we-”

“I can’t think! Just-” Seunghoon shrugged his hand off, a livid expression in his eyes, “I had this all planned out. We were supposed to make it back. We were supposed to make it back to town and get gasoline _there,_ we were supposed to make it!”

Jinwoo looked off to the unfamiliar road before them, his nose red as he willed back a frustrated cry. Seunghoon let the side of his head drop against the window, his eyes closing as he sighed. He went ahead and turned the car off, and without the hum of the engine, it was even more quiet than before. Jinwoo squirmed in his seat, finally dropped his shoulders and then got out of the car with an angered, yet determined, expression.

He opened the doors to the backseats and reach inside, getting a hold of one of the red gasoline canisters. “What are you doing?” he heard Seunghoon question before he shut the door again. Jinwoo found it hard to ignore him, Seunghoon, whom he wished so much to protect and hold and share all the warmth his body could possibly give, but he forced himself to walk away, in direction of where they had just come from.

Maybe Jinwoo was just clinging to Seunghoon because…before him, he had no one to live for but himself. Maybe. Seunghoon saved his life - even if Jinwoo still did not know whether he would have rather wanted to die or not. But faith, that silly thing he still clung to, had taught him that things happened for a reason. Jinwoo questioned it all, he still did even more so now. He prayed to a god he still wasn’t even sure was real or not. And his faith had also taught him to do unto other what you wished to be done to you. And maybe, maybe that was what he was doing now. Maybe he felt indebted to Seunghoon. Or maybe he _did_ really like Seunghoon, and not just _like,_ something else akin to love, but not love, not now, not like Seungyoon. Or maybe, Jinwoo was simply in a pathetically desperate search for a reason to live, because he was still a coward who was afraid to die, afraid to die alone, afraid to die unloved, and maybe Seunghoon had given him that.

Maybe he was just an idiot?

“Jinwoo!” He hadn’t even walked a meter yet.

Jinwoo heard Seunghoon’s careful steps tread across the snow and ice, until they stopped behind him and the other was able to turn Jinwoo around by a pull on his arm. “Jinwoo! What the hell are you doing?”

“We need to find gas,” Jinwoo answered, tired of this going back and forth. “Just let me do something for you.”

“For me?”

Jinwoo’s face heated up, not even realizing he had said that, and it suddenly made him angry that his most private, deepest emotions had been let out so unceremoniously, so carelessly and against his conscious will. “I-” Jinwoo closed his mouth. He shook his head and made moves to walk again, but Seunghoon, once again, stopped him, his grip on Jinwoo’s wrist becoming almost desperate.

“Jinwoo, you can’t go alone-”

“Someone needs to stay and watch the car.”

“Yes, but you only have like, a _knife,_ how are you supposed defen-?”

“Look,” Jinwoo seethed. Why couldn’t Seunghoon just let him do this _one_ thing for him?! “I was completely alone for a long time before you found me. I know how to defend myself, I’ll be fine.”

“I can’t!” Seunghoon snapped, his ears red and his hands balled up again. He was angry or sad, or a mixture of the two, that much was obvious, though Jinwoo could not fathom why he would be sad. “I…saw how you were when I found you. You obviously couldn’t defend yourself from whatever it was that happened. And I cannot - I will not! - let that happen again.”

Silence. Then: “Why?”

Jinwoo found himself a little confused over his own question, but he pressed on, curious now, “Why don’t you let me do this? If I die, get lost,

I’ll be out of your hair and you and Minho can be alone again. You don’t owe me anything anymore, and Minho needs you more than he needs me.”

It was silent again, worse now. Seunghoon seemed to be analyzing, bit by bit, everything Jinwoo had just said, and in his fear, in his cowardice of rejection, of more unnecessary, self-inflicted pain, Jinwoo acted out of sheer impulse: dropping the gasoline canister, he pulled Seunghoon close to him and pressed his lips against Seunghoon’s before the other could say anything, crying because, God, what if he pushed him away? What if he really did hate him then? Whatifwhatifwhatif-

His tears stung against his cold face, and they made the kiss more messy than it had to be, but Jinwoo figured it conveyed just how tumultuous all his insides felt, how afraid he was, but then - Seunghoon was kissing back. Maybe he felt forced to give Jinwoo something? Maybe he felt sorry for how messed up he was? No, Jinwoo didn’t want that.

He quickly pulled away, holding his clothed hands to his face as he tried to stop his shameful tears from falling, but then Seunghoon pulled them away, his face a myriad of emotions ranging from confusion to a weird fondness Jinwoo had never seen Seunghoon direct to him. “Stop crying,” he whispered, his breath ragged, “Stop-” Then he was the one kissing Jinwoo. It was so different from Minho’s kisses. Jinwoo did not want to compare the two by any means, but Seunghoon’s kissing felt _angry._ It had a sort of internal rage he had not ever felt from Minho. It was all teeth and bruising grips, restless and bothered. Why was he mad? Jinwoo thought of Minho. He thought of Minho and everything he meant to Seunghoon, how angry Seunghoon must be with Jinwoo now for betraying Minho’s trust. How angry Seunghoon must feel with himself for basically betraying his own devotion to Minho.

 _I love you._ The guilt bubbled in Jinwoo’s stomach as he remembered Minho’s words, and he only cried harder, wanting more of Seunghoon before all of it was over and he was left with nothing else but that shameful remorse. They had somehow made it the few steps it took to get to the car again in the midst of their liplock, and Seunghoon pressed Jinwoo, with all his brooding, festering turmoil, against the side of the vehicle, his hands finding a hard grip on Jinwoo’s jacket.

The anger, the resentment, Jinwoo relished in every bit of it, and as his cries slowed when Seunghoon did not make any moves to stop, he pulled away from Seunghoon’s mouth, his lips pressing everywhere else they could find. “Please,” Jinwoo heard himself whisper against his skin, blinking up to look at him, “Seunghoon. Please.”

“I have nothing to give you,” he replied, eyes still closed - as if he could not bring himself to look at Jinwoo.

Jinwoo pulled away, his chest heaving, and then, in a rushed form of decision, opened the car door with a sinking in his stomach. Instead of closing it, he left it open and only laid across the backseat, kicking off his shoes. This was him giving Seunghoon a choice. He could come in as well and they would continue, or he could close the door and walk away. Jinwoo felt evil and selfish giving him such options, making him pick, like the bad guy of the story once again, but he wanted to end the uncertainty for himself, he _wanted_ to be selfish for once.

Jinwoo stared at the open door by his legs, but the cold air blew in and made his eyes burn, so he was forced to lie back and stare at the ceiling of the car, his heart pounding unsteadily. There was a step outside on the snow, like a crunch, and then, with a wrenching of Jinwoo’s chest, Seunghoon’s knees were sinking on either side of his thighs, and Seunghoon himself hovered over him, hands on either side of Jinwoo’s head. Jinwoo felt like he was dreaming again. He sat up in surprise, silently asking _really?, Is this really happening?_

Seunghoon stared into his eyes for a second, and Jinwoo almost thought he was going to rethink it all and make up his mind and _leave_ him once and for all, but when Seunghoon sat up again, it was to close the car door behind them. The wind ceased, and it was silent once more. Seunghoon turned around again, his hand fingering at the zipper by his throat. After what truly did feel like an eternity, he unzipped it, looked up and gave Jinwoo a slight nod. Jinwoo, needing no further prompting, sat up and looked down at the buttons of his own jacket - _Minho’s_ jacket - and undid them, then the zipper. He shrugged it off, and by now, he would usually throw whoever it was he was with a smile, quirk an eyebrow; _Do you like what you see?_ But he couldn’t bring himself to do nothing else now but swallow heavily as Seunghoon threw their coats onto the floor and slipped his boots off.

“Do you want this?” Seunghoon suddenly asked, pushing Jinwoo onto his back and slipping his fingers into Jinwoo’s tightening pants, but not doing much else. His voice held some sort of angered taunting, like he knew Jinwoo _did_ obviously want this, knew how much Jinwoo had been pining over him, like he knew his simple, little mind well - but was he regretting it now that he had it? _You feel guilty, don’t you? Yes, I bet you do._ Jinwoo couldn’t complain now, pretend to be hurt. He deserved it, he deserved it all and worse.

Jinwoo neither accepted or denied this, and Seunghoon huffed, his expression hardened, and he suddenly leaned down to kiss Jinwoo’s jaw, hands warmly splayed on his chest, and Jinwoo only whined quietly, his want pulling Seunghoon closer to him. “Do you want this?” Seunghoon repeated, grinding his hips down and forcing a choked moan from Jinwoo.

“Y-Yes. Yes, I want it,” he teared up, squeezing his eyes shut as Seunghoon moved against him. He’d wanted this for so long, wanted Seunghoon to just hold him for _so_ long. And there was guilt, for lying to Minho, for doing this to him when he hadn’t done anything wrong, but his mind entered a sort of haze in which that didn’t matter, because only Seunghoon could stop this now and return him to his sound state of thinking, and there was no way Jinwoo was going to stop it on his own accord. “Say you’ll make love to me,” he suddenly pleaded, begged, his moans needy and filled with all the want in the world, “Amuse me. E-Even if you don’t mean it.”

“Make love to you?” Seunghoon exhaled, undoing the front of his pants and pulling them down. “No. I’m gonna fuck you, I’ll fuck you as passionately as you want, but we’re not going to ‘make love’, because I’m not a liar like you.”

“Seung-” Jinwoo gasped with a frown. But he pushed his anger away. Or maybe didn’t push it away, so much as convert all that energy into pain-driven lust, placing a hand around Seunghoon’s neck and slipping the other into his pants. He stroked him, carefully and with the most zeal he had ever stroked anyone in this new life before. He stroked him like he would to Seungyoon. He kissed him like he would to Seungyoon. And if he shut his eyes and mumbled ‘Seung’, over and over again, he could pretend it was him.

“Fuck me,” he finally cried once Seunghoon’s length was hard, warm and heavy in his hands, “Please. Just that.”

Seunghoon wordlessly slipped Jinwoo’s pants and underwear off until they were a wrinkly, mangled mess on the floor, and spread his legs open. Jinwoo realized he hadn’t even used his mouth on him or anything yet, so he was in no way slick enough to go in, but then Seunghoon was slipping his fingers into Jinwoo’s mouth, his expression almost curious to see what it was Jinwoo was capable of doing to go through with this. Jinwoo swallowed around them, holding the hand close to him, and when he pulled them out, he licked his wet lips, though he was sure his expression was conveying more of his troubled thoughts than the arousal he felt within. Seunghoon slid his hand between his bottom, and finally, _finally,_ Jinwoo felt the first finger enter him, cold and wet.

Seunghoon’s lips were parted and his eyes hooded in wonder and concentration as he slipped another finger in, stretching Jinwoo, sloppy and rushed. He was three fingers in much too soon, but Jinwoo said nothing and only ignored the slight burn. Had he a right to complain at this point? When the pain dissipated, he expected Seunghoon to pull his fingers out and go on to what was next, but instead he continued to finger him open, going deeper each time. Jinwoo’s eyebrows scrunched together in a delighted surprise, a gasp escaping him when Seunghoon found his spot after a moment of curling his fingers. He gripped Seunghoon’s shoulders, willing him to continue, “I-It- _There_. It feels so good.”

“Yeah?” His question was met with another tiny moan, and then Seunghoon decided to stop, placing his hands on Jinwoo’s knees and parting them as he looked down in thought. “Tell me if it hurts. I’ll stop.”

“Just go,” Jinwoo told him, moaning when Seunghoon dipped his head down and spit down against his twitching hole. They’d make do with what they had, Jinwoo supposed.

Seunghoon took a moment, caught his breath, and then held the base of his cock and guided it to Jinwoo’s entrance. The tip entered, and Jinwoo tried not to freeze up at the stretch, his breathing shaky as Seunghoon continued to push in. Seunghoon moaned once he was all the way in and Jinwoo found himself smiling through the fog of his pleasure, for he had never heard Seunghoon so raw and primal before. Jinwoo wanted this, he was fine with just this, exposed, real Seunghoon, all for him.

Jinwoo felt the other man slide in and out shallowly a few times, until, encouraged by Jinwoo’s groans, he slipped out almost completely and pushed in, quicker than before. Jinwoo cried out in surprise, his body tensing. He then curled his legs around Seunghoon, and with his arms also around Seunghoon’s slightly damp neck, he pleaded a fervent, “Do it- Do it again.”

Seunghoon licked his neck, and Jinwoo was almost caught in that simple, yet chill-inducing sensation but Seunghoon cut off all his thoughts as he thrusted into him again. And again, and again, until he had created a steady enough rhythm for the both of them. It burned a bit, not because Seunghoon had not stretched him correctly, but because of how soon Seunghoon picked up his pace, his hips snapping against Jinwoo’s bottom and creating vulgar noises in the silence of the car.

“Hm, keep-” Jinwoo cut himself off, whining when Seunghoon bit into his neck as if he were trying to contain his own moans. His intermittent breaths coming out of his nose were enough to give him away however, and maybe Jinwoo had been wrong, because this felt like the real Seunghoon. Seunghoon leaned up with a groan and knitted his brows together, biting his red, bottom lip as he slid into Jinwoo like he’d gained some sort of energy during the second he had lied there. His thrusts became harder, and yes, this was the real Seunghoon. Angry and frustrated.

He seemed so determined to bring Jinwoo to the edge, and Jinwoo, having decided to help him along, reached for his own aching cock, but Seunghoon caught his wrist midway and pinned it above his head, then brought the other one and held them both down with the same hand. “Fuck-” he slid in, “-no.”

“Seunghoon!” Jinwoo whimpered agitatedly, his face pink and splotchy. Seunghoon continued with his pace, brutal and unforgiving like he hated Jinwoo, like he wanted to make him cry, wanted to see the burns from the car seat material on his back, wanted to give him so much he was so overwhelmed and never wanted to ask for more ever again.

“Fuck you. You’ll come…when I say so,” Seunghoon suddenly gritted out, a huff of exertion leaving his lips as he developed a harsh grip on Jinwoo’s hip with his free hand. He finally found Jinwoo’s spot, and Jinwoo swore he could feel it in his stomach when Seunghoon went from brushing against it to hitting it relentlessly, releasing his anger unto the boy caged beneath him.

Jinwoo could not give any warning when he came; his speaking ability had seemed to momentarily abandon his body as his orgasm hit him, making him come harder and longer then he had ever come before ever since their sick world had fallen from grace. He felt the searing hot flames of pleasure licking at his skin and Seunghoon only continued to thrust into him through it all. Jinwoo’s moans came in a high, breathless staccato with each thrust as it washed through him, and finally, as he squeezed around Seunghoon’s length, the other man came soon after, groaning shakily into Jinwoo’s neck as he emptied himself inside Jinwoo. He surprised Jinwoo with a sudden, bruising kiss, teeth nipping at his lip, until finally his mouth dazedly slipped down and rested on Jinwoo’s clavicle.

Jinwoo could feel the liquid slipping out of him as Seunghoon’s movements became less accurate, then slowed down completely to nothing. He finished with a ragged breath into Jinwoo’s ear and stilled, their chests sweaty and slick against each other. Jinwoo felt every drag of Seunghoon’s cock against his walls until it slipped out completely and they both made varying sounds of both discomfort and awe as Seunghoon’s come leaked out of Jinwoo, mixing with Jinwoo’s own into the fabric of the car seat between them.

They lied, only for a second, before Seunghoon was getting up with an exhausted expression, his eyes dark and blown out. He huffed, rubbed his thumb across Jinwoo’s hipbones, eyeing his seed as it continued to pool out of Jinwoo. “Clean yourself up and wait here,” he stated, his voice gruff and serious. “I’ll be back soon.”

Jinwoo got up on arms that felt like pure gelatin, confused at the abruptness of Seunghoon’s movements. He instinctively closed his legs, as if embarrassed now. _Did you expect him to hold you? Kiss you and say you did well? Like he loves you? Likes you at all? Like Seungyoon would?_

Jinwoo leaned back on his elbows and tried hiding the hurt settling in his chest. Seunghoon’s hair fell over his face as he pulled his underwear and pants up, redoing his belt with shaky fingers. It looked like they’d just been caught in their sinful act, like Minho himself had just witnessed it all, and Jinwoo realized Seunghoon must have now understood the gravity of what they’d done, as he seemed worried now, too remorseful to even look at Jinwoo, in a hurry to get out of his presence.

“Seunghoon,” Jinwoo tried, sitting up and grabbing Seunghoon’s jacket for him.

Seunghoon took it from him without a word and then threw a rag from the floor at Jinwoo’s chest, turned his back on him and opened the car door. He got out and held the door open for a moment. His head was craned to the side to look inside at Jinwoo’s figure, a purse in his lips as he finally said something. “Let’s not talk about this now, okay?”

Jinwoo cast his eyes downwards and nodded, feeling the start of a dull throb in the bottom of his back.

“Be back in a bit.”

He shut the door with a final thud and Jinwoo could not bring himself to look at him retreat down the road or the gasoline container in his whitened grip.


	6. Chapter 6

When Seunghoon brought himself and Jinwoo back to the cabin that day, Jinwoo wasn’t sure - or maybe did not want to admit - what it was he felt when he saw Minho buried in about three blankets on the bed, warm and without a sliver of any mundane care. Clueless. _Protected._

Seunghoon dropped his bag by the entrance, gave Jinwoo a look. _Don’t say anything._ Jinwoo nodded, rubbing the bottom of his face with his sleeve for no other reason besides an attempt at hiding his frown. He felt the urge to cry again, to cry until he was dizzy. But when he kicked off his shoes and settled onto the bed next to Minho, he could only stare at the boy’s face with nothing but regret. Minho loved him, Seunghoon didn’t. Minho would do anything for him, Seunghoon wouldn’t, and if he did, not for him but for Minho.

Jinwoo took his jacket off and got under the blanket with the younger male, holding a hand up to Minho’s neck. It was so warm, and his own hand was so cold, he was afraid it would startle Minho awake, so he pulled it away and kept to himself.

He closed his eyes, thought of Seungyoon. Of Seungyoon and his smile. His bleached hair, his plush lips. Suddenly, he did cry. He cried and cried, until his chest hurt, and his shoulders shook. He cried until his eyes were burning and until his body had heated up again with the pain and regret. He knew Seunghoon could hear him, that he was probably looking at him pathetically crumble into a mess on the small bed, but Jinwoo didn’t care, because this wasn’t even about him anymore. This was about him missing Seungyoon; this was about him wanting to be with Seungyoon again.

His hands were pressed over his eyes when Minho woke up, and he only knew of the other boy’s conscious state when he shuffled and sort of hitched his breath in surprise. “Ah, Jinwoo-hyung, you’re back,” he whispered in his sleepy voice, soon concerned and caring as he lightly threaded his fingers through his hair, “What is it, are you okay?”

“I’ve missed you,” Jinwoo blubbered, thoughts of Seungyoon consuming him and choking nonsense out of him, “I’ve missed you so much. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Minho said quietly, a hesitant smile on his lips. He sat up and pulled Jinwoo into a firm embrace, rubbing his hands on his back and calming him, “It’s okay. Shh, you’re here now…” Minho seemed to spot Seunghoon on the other side of the room, for he looked up and quirked his head in question. “What happened, are you guys…okay?”

“We’re fine, he just got scared because we ran out of gas. We were out on the road for a few hours.”

“Jinwoo,” Minho suddenly laughed, his eyes all crinkly and kind as he pulled back to observe Jinwoo’s reddened face, “You were with Seunghoon, there was nothing to worry about!”

“I-” Jinwoo shook his head, not about to explain why he was crying, or who it was actually for. No one needed to know. He placed his head on Minho’s shoulder and slowed his cries until he was only sniffling every now and then. His fingers poked at Minho’s sweater as Minho continued to talk to Seunghoon, and he somehow managed to lull to sleep, eyebrows furrowed in his uneasy melancholy. Once again, he really did hate himself.

-

Jinwoo began to bathe at night for the next week or so after what he and Seunghoon had done. His neck had a few dark spots at the base, and Jinwoo was finally happy for the cold only because it gave him an excuse to wear clothing that would cover them up without suspicion.

But at night, he would boil his own water, stand in the rusty metal container just outside the cabin and pour bits of water over his head, trying his best to withstand the bone-crushing cold that slipped through the cracks of the shaky walls of planks Seunghoon had put up now that it wasn’t optimal to just walk to the river and bathe there. Only then would he poke at his neck, feel the sting that was now beginning to fade, and let his mind wander back to that day.

It made his stomach churn, but he wasn’t even sure anymore whether it was out of disgust in himself or yearning for Seunghoon’s touch. _What is the matter with you?_ He was not sure.

When he would finish and quickly dry off, throw his clothes on, and after hastily pattering back inside, he’d slip in next to Minho in the bed. It was always the same, at least for a few weeks or so, and only when the marks had finally faded did he allow himself to bathe when Minho was awake, let Minho heat water up for him.

Until he didn’t. Until he messed up again and he couldn’t look at Minho in the eye for another week. _Another_ week, more avoiding looking at Minho for too long, more feeling wrong when Minho hugged him close at night.

Jinwoo wasn’t even sure how it happened, but one moment he was helping Seunghoon by stacking the pieces of lumber the other had been cutting into a small pyramid, and the next he and Seunghoon were on the floor next to the stack, mouths all over each other like they had been reduced to nothing now but mindless, lust-driven beings with no sort of control over their behavior. Seunghoon hadn’t said much, just like the other time, but now he hadn’t been so cold, and Jinwoo was not sure how to interpret that. They didn’t go all the way. Jinwoo remembers his hips feeling raw afterwards from the rubbing they’d done against each other, fully clothed because there was just no way they would have gotten undressed in any way in the woods at such temperatures.

Seunghoon had grimaced when they’d pulled apart, and Jinwoo understood he must have felt as disgusting as he did, what with the wetness soaking the front of their pants. He pushed himself up onto his hands, glancing downwards. “I’ll wash them later today,” Seunghoon had muttered, his body laid back on the ground as he caught his breath.

Jinwoo wished he knew what went through his mind. Why had he done that? What were his intentions? Nothing made sense, and he wanted to ask Seunghoon all of this, but he didn’t think he’d get a nice response. He did not remember who had initiated it either, it had sort of just…happened. Nothing added up. Nothing added up, and slowly, Jinwoo began to resent Seunghoon for allowing this to happen between them. But he did _not_ resent him, of course he didn’t, how he could he resent Seunghoon, how could he ever-? “We should head back,” Jinwoo muttered, getting up on shaky legs and pulling his jacket down as far as it would go.

“Yeah, you take a few of these and get back inside.”

Jinwoo eyed him but nodded. He took the lumber back in his arms, and it was back to not speaking to Seunghoon and back to feeling like Minho knew what he had done and was silently judging him whenever they looked at each other.

Jinwoo felt like he would go insane. Maybe he already was.

“It’s spring,” Minho said one week, tilting his head at a notebook he was staring at, “Yes. Today is spring.”

“How do you know?” Jinwoo asked, looking on at the notebook with curiosity.

“Minho has always kept track,” Seunghoon informed, which made sense of the grouped tallies Jinwoo saw once he observed the page. Keeping track of it all must have been exhausting, Jinwoo was exhausted just _looking_ at it. He quirked his head to eye Minho, and when Minho mirrored him and they made eye contact, Jinwoo couldn’t help but laugh a little in astonishment.

“That’s crazy!” he said in awe. Minho closed his notebook and joined him in his small laughter with a shrug.

“What else am I supposed to do with all my time?”

Jinwoo didn’t have a smart answer to respond to that with, so he merely nodded in agreement and laid his head in Minho’s shoulder as he thought of what he could be doing with all his time.

He eyed Seunghoon across the room: his arms as he replaced some of the boards on the floor, his fringe that fell across his forehead… Jinwoo swallowed heavily and squeezed his eyes shut as he forced all of his wrong thoughts out of his mind. He didn’t know what was wrong with him lately. It seemed that after the first time he and Seunghoon had sex, all Jinwoo could think about was doing it again, and again, and to the point where it really did not matter who it was that sated his urges, so long as they were sated. It was fucking ridiculous, and he was disgusted in himself for having such thoughts. Sometimes he dreamed about the day in the forest, the one after that night, when he had woken up naked and lost and scared and _dirty-_

Maybe it was as if he craved his old lifestyle, the one before Seunghoon and Minho. He had grown used to that, getting by that way. But he _didn’t_ want that life, because he was terrified of how it could go wrong, how being alone could end for him again. He was so conflicted. He felt pleasuring was the only thing he was good at now, and now that he was not doing that, it must mean he wasn’t doing anything with his life.

Sometimes Jinwoo felt as if he weren’t really human anymore. He didn’t want to be human anymore, at least. It hurt too much. He wished he could have died with Seungyoon, he wished he could have died instead of Seungyoon. Seungyoon had always been stronger than him. He would’ve moved on quicker, thrived so beautifully in their ugly world. But he did not want to think about Seungyoon. Seungyoon didn’t deserve to cross his tainted, impure mind.

He was untouched when he and Seungyoon began to see each other. Seungyoon was his first… _everything._ All his life, he had guarded himself, and now that his dignity had reached and been dragged across the floor, he felt so ashamed. Seungyoon must be so disappointed. Seungyoon must hate him, hate him as much as Jinwoo hated himself. Maybe it was better if Seungyoon had died before Jinwoo became the grotesque thing he is now. No, Jinwoo should have just died first. Then, he would have died with his basically clean reputation.

Reputations didn’t matter now, though, right?

Sometimes he prayed before going to bed. He didn’t pray to God though, most of the time he talked to Seungyoon and pretended that Seungyoon could actually hear him just to comfort himself and prevent him from losing the remaining bit of sanity he had. Sometimes he prayed, sometimes he woke Minho up to distract himself. Sometimes they would talk, sometimes they would kiss, sometimes they’d do more, and sometimes they would just cuddle until Jinwoo faked falling asleep so Minho could feel like he had helped in some way.

The first night he did neither of those was on the day the flowers began to bloom again.

Minho had teared up a bit when they’d stepped outside that morning, his eyes wandering across the trees surrounding the clearing as if he’d never seen flowers in his life. Jinwoo could feel his excitement. And he smiled, too. The snow had melted long ago, but that cold had remained. Still, now they had not been received with a biting wind, yet with a tepid breeze.

“The river,” Minho suddenly exclaimed, motioning for Jinwoo and Seunghoon, who had stepped out mere moments before, to come with him. They stepped over fallen branches and walked for no more than ten minutes before, first hearing it, and then finally coming to the bank of the stream. The water rushed smoothly, glided across rocks, as if it had never stopped in the first place, had never frozen over.

“It’s still going to be really cold,” Seunghoon said, leaning down and dipping his hand into the water to confirm his statement. He nodded, almost like in disappointment, “Yeah, well…”

“Give it a few weeks,” Jinwoo told Minho, tugging at his arm and holding it warm and close to himself. Minho smiled and pecked his forehead, hugging him sideways. It felt so good, so nice, Jinwoo suddenly wondered if he could be okay with this, if he could be content, because it really did feel that way in that moment.

And then Seunghoon stood up, wiping his hands on his pants with a crooked smile in their direction. It didn’t fall from his face, even when he took in their embrace, like it would have maybe weeks before. Instead he smiled, continued to do so, as if he could see right through Jinwoo, could see right through his facade, his front. And then Jinwoo wasn’t so sure of anything again.

“You know,” he began when they headed back to the cabin, “I saw a deer yesterday.”

“Ah, a deer?” Minho echoed, surprised. Jinwoo could not remember when he’d last seen any sort of animal prior to spring either. Everything seemed to have come to life again. It felt like the world had _actually_ died for a good while.

“Yeah, behind the cabin. What do you think?”

“What, like…?”

“Yeah. In celebration.”

Jinwoo had no idea what they had been implying then, but he realized it had been pretty damn obvious by the time the afternoon came. Prior to that, Minho and Seunghoon had left, without any comment as to where exactly they were going. The sun was beginning to set, and yet they still had not come back to the cabin, and needless to say, Jinwoo had begun to get a little antsy waiting on his own.

Then he heard a crash. Not really a crash, more like a _crack_ ; it echoed through the air, made the birds caw as they were roused from their previous peace. A gunshot, it seemed. Jinwoo’s stomach plummeted, unsure of what to think, what to do. It had happened so suddenly he didn’t even remember where it had come from seconds after he’d heard it, and his every instinct was telling him that it was probably best to not go looking for the source of it.

And if the boys were in trouble? Hurt? There were too many scenarios, and Jinwoo felt a bit dizzied as they rushed through his mind.

No. Seunghoon and Minho were smart, right? They were okay. They were okay, yes. Because things couldn’t just end that way, so irresolutely. If this were a movie, it’d be a rather disappointing ending, it’d make no sense, it’d be all wrong.

Well. Jinwoo tried convincing himself of this anyhow. He left to the back of the cabin, eyeing the edge of the surrounding woods with an unwavering frown. The woods seemed unfamiliar now, scary, seemed to stretch out indefinitely. Something was not right, no, definitely not. But what could he do? He sat next to their nonexistent garden, eyed the ground with a painful clench of his fists.

He was - pretending, really - to tend to the garden, mainly poking at the hardened soil and deciding where it’d be best to start planting, to distract himself from his currently lonely, terrified predicament, when there were voices suddenly, boisterous and loud, and it made Jinwoo break away from his task he had only half been paying attention to anyways.

Chest palpitating, his bottom lip wobbled in slight surprise when he saw the… _thing._ Not a thing, no, an animal. A deer. It was dead, presumably, and Seunghoon and Minho seemed to have struggled a bit to take it all the way to where they were now. They both had a grip on either pair of its legs, sleeves rolled up as they awkwardly approached Jinwoo’s space.

“Jinwoo, help us, will you?” Minho called with a small grunt. Only when Jinwoo had hesitantly stepped a few feet in their direction did he notice the gun in Seunghoon’s belt, and the dark, drying red on Minho’s hands.

“What did you do?” Jinwoo asked quietly, though it was _obvious_ what. His own tone was not one he could make sense of. Was he mad? Confused? Surprised? He didn’t blame the other two for not answering his dumb question, but he did grimace when they set the dead deer on top of a piece of scrap metal on the ground near the wall.

Seunghoon huffed, wiping his hands on his pants. Jinwoo was sort of reminded of his father, of all the times he had gone to see him fish, the large catches he’d get by the end of the day. This felt completely different but exactly the same all at once. Maybe now, now that they were all dying, now that life was so scarce, it felt almost wrong to cause any more of that. Back then, the future had been such a faraway thing, so intangible and abstract. Resources seemed so plentiful; life was but a disposable thing. But if they were of the remaining population, did that not mean there were more resources to spare? That the _whole wide world_ was theirs now? All of Jinwoo’s ideas contradicted themselves, made no sense as he tried working out all the ends, so he said nothing to voice his uncertainty and knelt down instead. He eyed the wound on its neck, the surrounding blood. The eyes. The pitch-black eyes. Was there fear in them? Had it even known it was going to die? Did it know it was dying as it bled out? How quick did it take? He looked up at the other two and asked none of this, but a blank, “And what am I supposed to do?”

That night they ate deer meat. Venison. Whatever it was called. Jinwoo did so rather reluctantly, which was a bit ridiculous since he had helped clean it out after the other two had skinned it. It was all so primordial, but Jinwoo could tell even Seunghoon and Minho looked unsure as they dealt with the preparations. “I read a survival book once,” Minho had said, so they’d all just sort of listened to what he had to say.

Jinwoo stared at the now cooked meat on his plate, did so for a long while. He had finally eaten it after realizing that maybe it would be disrespectful to the deer if he didn’t eat it, because then it would have technically died for no reason, right? Jinwoo thought so anyways, maybe only to feel better about himself after he had finished eating.

“I’m going to wash clothes,” he said when he was done cleaning up after himself. Seunghoon and Minho both looked up in acknowledgement, but only Seunghoon threw him a wary look, as if wanting to ask if there was something wrong. Of course, he didn’t ask Jinwoo this, which was not a surprise. Why would he care enough to ask him if he was okay? That was absolutely stupid, the mere thought of it was laughable. Maybe he was just silently asking Jinwoo to wash his clothes for him, that wouldn’t be too uncharacteristic.

After collecting his clothes - and asking the other boys if they had clothes that needed washing and collecting those as well, along with a bottle of detergent Minho had gotten from one of their trips (why did no one else think of getting detergent? There had been so much at the otherwise ransacked store, it was _completely_ ridiculous) - Jinwoo set off for the river, a weird feeling overcoming him as he meandered over the unsteady ground, passed the campfire they’d already put out. He felt at peace. Maybe not peace, but if he focused on unfocusing for a few seconds, he could pretend he was some sort of camper maybe, the only person on earth. It was weird, his thoughts were weird, but maybe it was because he felt guilty for having eaten from that deer, and his conscience was coming up with all sorts of bizarre, nonsensical thoughts to take him away from that.

Jinwoo made it to the river without tripping, surprisingly, since it was rather dark already, and settled onto his knees near the damp ground. He avoided the rocky parts of the bank, since he’d rather _not_ get cut and acquire an infection, and began to wash - or clean as best as he could, at least - the dirty laundry, which wasn’t much anyways, as they all basically shared the same seven or eight changes of clothes and the same two towels.

As he wringed out one of Minho’s preferred hoodies, his mind wandered back to the deer against his own will. His stomach churned the longer he thought about it, as if his own mind was influencing him to get sick, encouraging him to throw up all of his food and apologize to an animal that wouldn’t have understood him either way. He should’ve just eaten the artichokes, even if they hadn’t had much flavor. Seungyoon had been a vegetarian, he remembered that well, how could he have not, since dinnertime had always been an interesting event. He never made Jinwoo eat something he didn’t like, but they did have vegetarian night every Saturday, and Jinwoo was more than happy to oblige, as it was only one night out of the entire week.

Jinwoo wondered if maybe he had been a little selfish, maybe he should have had more vegetarian nights with Seungyoon. He remembered how insignificant it had all seemed, vegetarian night or not, and now he wished nothing more than to have Seungyoon coax him into eating a bowl full of tofu one last time. Jinwoo’s stomach turned again, but now it had nothing to do with what he had eaten, but with himself and where he was now. He hated himself again. God, he hated himself so much, he detested his life. It was almost ridiculous, so angsty it was stupid. But it was true, and he couldn’t just pretend he didn’t wish death would come for him right then. _It’s just one of those nights, it’s okay. It’s just one of those nights. You’re completely fine. If you die, Seungyoon will have died for nothing. If you die, you’ll have wasted Seunghoon’s time. Don’t be selfish. Don’t be a brat. Suck it up. Why are you crying? No, stop cryi-_

“Are you okay?”

Jinwoo’s cries stopped and he sniffed rather loudly as he turned around in confusion at the voice behind him. He wiped his eyes, squinted into the dark. “What?” Even though Seunghoon’s shape was only barely distinguishable from Minho’s in the current lighting, he knew it was him from both the voice and stance, which always seemed to be a bit too stand-offish, for no necessary reason at all really.

“You looked upset,” he stated, not repeating himself, but sort of doing so at the same time. No, Seunghoon never repeated himself, it was almost awe-inducing. “And now you’re crying.”

“I’m washing,” Jinwoo answered, avoiding the real question, because he wasn’t about to fruitlessly lie. Of course he was crying, of course he wasn’t okay, but he wasn’t going to explain why, because Seunghoon had not asked, even though he was obviously silently asking that. Jinwoo would not say anything that had not been asked of him regardless, however; it was easier that way.

“Yeah, I see.” Jinwoo did not know if Seunghoon had been going to say anything else, but it was fine, there wasn’t much of anything he could say that would not sound forced or awkward. “Are you mad about the deer? I didn’t know if you were a vegetarian or something, I thought-”

“My boyfriend was a vegetarian.” Jinwoo winced after saying that. Why had he? Seungyoon had no place in this wretched life of this, why was he even talking about him? Seungyoon barely deserved the disrespect of Jinwoo compulsively thinking about him all day long, much less talking about him to the guy he was fucking, but-not-really, the guy who was his sort-of boyfriend’s best friend, but-not-really.

It was rather clear that it was not Minho who he was talking about, and Seunghoon sat next to him slowly, his voice oddly level and _maybe_ kind? Maybe? “Your boyfriend.” Yes, he had of course made it sound like Seungyoon was currently his boyfriend. But he was, right? Just because he had died didn’t mean he wasn’t his boyfriend anymore, no? Just because he died didn’t mean Jinwoo had broken up with him? Seungyoon was his boyfriend, and he always will be because he had died as such. It’s just that now he was his dead boyfriend, but his boyfriend nonetheless.

“Was a vegetarian,” Seunghoon continued, as though encouraging him to continue.

Jinwoo did not want to talk to Seunghoon about Seungyoon, why would he? But he had no clue what possessed him to drop the clothes in his hands onto the large rock next to him. He turned to Seunghoon, a frown tugging at his lips. “He’s dead.”

“Doesn’t mean he stopped being a vegetarian. Who knows? Do you believe in that?” Jinwoo figured Seunghoon was right, because if Seungyoon had died and not stopped being his boyfriend, he had also not suddenly turned non-vegetarian. Yes, that made sense. But he was dead. Right.

By ‘that’, Jinwoo was not sure if Seunghoon meant in God or in heaven or if that Seungyoon was still a vegetarian or what, but he nodded anyways and brought a knee up to his chest, “Yeah. I guess.”

A beat of silence, then Seunghoon sighed, laying onto his back with a stretch of his legs. “Do you want to fuck?”

“Do I- _What_?” Jinwoo gawked, suddenly very interested in his pruny fingers. “I just told you about my dead boyfriend and you want to…”

“Fuck. Yeah,” Seunghoon answered calmly. “Sorry, it just felt right…”

“You are absolutely tactless. Why are you asking me, though?”

“I’m not going to randomly pull your pants d-”

“No, like you never even talk to me in general, much less before we fuck, and now you actually asked. We just…do it, I guess. No premeditation.” Jinwoo wondered if anything he had said made sense, but he was glad he had at least said something. In no way was it even close to all the questions and thoughts he had - wanted - to share with the other man, but it was a start.

“I’m happy today.”

Jinwoo felt like that sentence in no way meant only that. Seunghoon was acting off. It was obvious with how relaxed he seemed for once, how at ease his shoulders were.

And Jinwoo allowed himself to hope, if only for a second.

It was silly, honestly, how he allowed himself to amuse those fancies of his.

He crawled over to Seunghoon, easily slipping his knees onto either side of his waist. “Do you like me, Seunghoon-ah? Be honest. Do you hate me?” Why was he asking that, why? It seemed like a bad idea after it had already been said, but he didn’t let his expression waver as he placed his hands on Seunghoon’s chest, a raise of his eyebrows. “Hm?”

“Why does it matter? Why does any of that matter now? ‘Liking’ people at a time like this is dangerous and so stupid. That’s why you’re the worst kind of person for letting Minho like you, and for lying to him and saying you like him back.”

Jinwoo’s face went red in a sudden rush of anger, and he didn’t stop his hand as it came into contact with Seunghoon’s cheek, not too hard, but with enough impact to where the other surely felt a sting. “Don’t try to act all smart and enlightened with me. You’re pathetic. And childish. You’re just mad because Minho didn’t like you back, and- and then _I_ came along and completely ruined your chances. Get over it.”

“Wow,” Seunghoon deadpanned, rubbing at his cheek for a moment.

“You called me ‘the worst kind of person’, that’s literally so shitty.”

“No, I deserved that.”

Jinwoo stared down at him for a moment, suddenly remembered what it was that they had been going to do. Jinwoo didn’t even know if that’s what Seunghoon still wanted, now that they had let a bit of steam out on each other, now that the cat was out of the bag…

“Do you…?”

“Yeah,” Seunghoon replied, sitting up and discarding his shirt. “It’ll get dirty here,” he explained in response to Jinwoo’s questioning look. So Jinwoo followed in suite and discarded his own clothing into a little lump next to all the other clothes he still had to wash. He stood up though, feeling icky and uncomfortable about the ground, and Seunghoon had no problem pushing him back against a tree, their breaths intermingling for a moment. “Be quiet, okay? Minho might hear.”

“You care if he hears or not.”

Seunghoon stared blankly for a second and then leaned in without another word to press their lips together, almost instantly licking at Jinwoo’s bottom lip to get him to open up for him. Their tongues pressed together, but for once it didn’t feel too messy, too rushed, too wet. Jinwoo grimaced slightly when Seunghoon suddenly lifted him with a firm grip on the backs of his thighs, the bark of the tree slightly scraping at his back.

“Um, ow,” he exhaled after pulling away from the kiss, though his momentary discomfort was forgotten as the angle allowed for them to be closer, and he groaned softly when their bare fronts rubbed together. “Nevermind.”

“I’ll be careful,” Seunghoon assured, pecking at his jaw.

“Seunghoon,” Jinwoo wondered, arms in a loose cross around the others’ neck. Seunghoon hummed in question, but Jinwoo forgot what it was he had wanted to say and only sighed into Seunghoon’s kisses.

It was slower than their usual _moments,_ but it was fast either way, as things often were with Seunghoon, and Minho was still there _somewhere_ in Jinwoo’s mind, like a task he had forgotten to do, a chore he was putting off. Seunghoon took his time preparing Jinwoo for once, though, which was surprising, considering they felt more on a time crunch than ever. And their position didn’t help either, but. They managed. “I’ve never had sex against a tree,” Jinwoo said with a strained laugh. Seunghoon was holding him up with firm hands, fingers digging into his flesh, and their foreheads were sort of just rested on each others’ shoulders as Seunghoon’s tip slowly entered. He lowered Jinwoo bit by bit, let some of the pressure he had on him diminish so as to allow Jinwoo to fully settle down around him.

Jinwoo did almost the complete opposite of this once Seunghoon was all the way inside, his arms tightening around Seunghoon’s neck and his legs tensing around his waist with a tiny hum of approval. “I don’t think many people can say they have,” Seunghoon finally replied breathlessly. Jinwoo laughed again and then leaned in for a slow kiss, felt how Seunghoon shallowly jutted his hips.

“I-” Jinwoo sighed desperately, not knowing what he wanted to say or how to get the words out of his mouth, “You’re so _deep_ like th-is.”

“I know,” Seunghoon huffed, readjusting his grip on him and sliding even _further,_ to the hilt; Jinwoo could feel every bit of him. Seunghoon stilled with a choked off groan, and the tip of his cock was suddenly just _there,_ pressing against his prostate but not providing more than that.

“Move,” Jinwoo whined, squeezing his thighs around Seunghoon to press him closer, “Please, move.”

“Just don’t be loud.”

“I won’t be lou- Hah, _okay,_ ” he spluttered, his whole body jolting once Seunghoon actually started _moving_ moving.

Seunghoon’s legs must have burned, Jinwoo could only imagine, but his thrusts were sharp and hard, and he kept them steady for a good, long while. With each upwards stroke of his hips, Jinwoo felt his back scrape more and more against the tree, but it almost didn’t matter because never had he felt this good with Seunghoon. Never had vulgar fucking felt so good and nice, and he melted into the feeling, melted into Seunghoon, and let him take control.

“My legs feel like they’re…numb,” Seunghoon exhaled into his shoulder after a few minutes, and now his lips _were_ wet and messy against Jinwoo’s skin, “Look, let’s-”

“I’ll ride you,” Jinwoo suggested, anything to not be on the dirty floor. His back was already stinging slightly, and he didn’t think he could take any more of that.

Seunghoon cursed as he continued to fuck up into him, as if he couldn’t stop himself despite his discomfort, but he finally groaned and slipped out of Jinwoo, allowing him to stand on his wobbly legs. Seunghoon slid down to the bottom of the tree, holding his cock up with one hand, and Jinwoo followed to a shaky stance over it, feeling the tip tease at his entrance. He kneaded his hands into the skin of Seunghoon’s sweaty shoulders as he settled himself back onto the length, his eyes falling shut as he moaned through a dazed shudder, “Yes. Yes yes yes. Seunghoon, this- feels-”

“What would you do,” Seunghoon began as Jinwoo began to raise his lower body up and down, feeling each thrust like a shock of electricity in his guts, “if M-Minho found us? Right now, like this.”

“C-Cry,” Jinwoo said the first thing that came to mind, and the most honest, really. Yes, he’d cry. For what, he did not know. Shame? Sorrow? No, maybe not sorrow, perhaps only in apology of his actions, apologetic for hurting Minho like that. _I’m sorry you saw th-_

“All you do is cry,” Seunghoon sighed, his hands coming up to play with Jinwoo’s thighs, “I want to see you cry. For my cock. Wanna see you weep.”

“Seung,” Jinwoo screwed his eyes shut, slowing his movements to roll his hips on Seunghoon’s length, feeling it graze every bit of his insides like a hot rod, spearing him open. “Shut the- fuck up.”

Seunghoon didn’t respond, but he moved his hands up to get his harsh grip on Jinwoo’s waist again, and thrusted up once, purposely rough to see what kind of reaction he’d get from the other male. Jinwoo’s moan got cut off as he dropped his head, catching sight of the amused smile Seunghoon was sporting on his stupid face.

“You’re so good,” Seunghoon then praised after settling into his own pattern of thrusts, meeting Jinwoo halfway through his own movements, “So pretty for me.”

Jinwoo’s heart did weird things at the sound of that, he didn’t know what, but they were just weird, and he couldn’t explain them then even if he would have wanted to. Seunghoon was probably only saying it because of the mood or whatever, but Jinwoo allowed himself to indulge in the words of praise for that moment. “Stop it,” he keened, feeling his eyes water. Everything was ignited in the delight Seunghoon was giving him, the constant hits to his sensitive insides, the words, the way Seunghoon reached a hand up and brought Jinwoo’s face close to his to collide their mouths against each other. The pressure built up, right at the bottom of his stomach and to the tip of his neglected length. He stroked himself between their heated bodies, and this time Seunghoon did not stop him from doing so.

“Yes,” Seunghoon said, his teeth gritted, “touch yourself. Come for me.” He slid into him quicker, forcing more curses and whines from the back of Jinwoo’s throat. To hell with being quiet then, Seunghoon didn’t seem to care anymore. The river rushed behind them, drowning out their sounds anyways, but it suddenly hushed to nothing, everything did, once Jinwoo came on Seunghoon’s stomach, feeling his own liquids slip between his fingers, creating a mess.

It took no more than a few squeezes around his cock before Seunghoon’s hips stuttered and he stilled and came, hot and slick, pumping within Jinwoo. “F-Fuck, shit.” He licked at the shell of Jinwoo’s ear, causing all sorts of tingles down Jinwoo’s spine. Seunghoon’s hips slowed until he finally stopped and slipped out of Jinwoo with a slight grimace, his eyelids hooded and heavy. Jinwoo grimaced at the slickness between his mounds, reaching behind him to touch it as if that was going to stop it from spreading everywhere. “Cute,” Seunghoon mumbled, voice sleepy.

Jinwoo let his body just go boneless on Seunghoon, figuring the other deserved it for making his back go through such pain. Wait, but did Seunghoon just-

Jinwoo sat up on Seunghoon’s waist, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. Seunghoon didn’t mean that. He was tired. It hurt, but it was true, because Jinwoo wasn’t about to let himself stupidly believe anything other than that.

He got up with a wince and walked to the river. The closer he got to his own reflection, the closer his feet came to touching the water, and when they finally did, Jinwoo didn’t even flinch at how cold it was. He entered, bit by bit. The stream wasn’t remotely strong, so he had no fear of being swept away. All was calm: his freezing legs, his contracting muscles.

“Get out, you’ll get sick.”

“I need to clean myself,” Jinwoo called without turning, his body shivering now as his whole lower body became submerged. He felt the soft stream slip through his legs, carry away with it the remnants of his sin tonight. A warm hand came onto his shoulder.

“It’s fucking _cold._ ”

“Then get out. You’ll get sick.” Seunghoon scoffed at his mimicry and began to splash water on his stomach, his arms shaking.

“Do you want me to help with the clothes so you can finish quicker?”

Jinwoo looked up, fingertips slicing through the water’s surface as it passed by him. “It’s okay. You go back, it’ll be weird if we both…”

“Right, right,” Seunghoon nodded, looking back down at his stomach one last time to make sure he was clean. “My dick might fall off. Hurry, or yours will too.”

“What a shame that would be,” Jinwoo laughed passively.

Seunghoon hurried out of the water and dried his legs off with one of the dirty towels Jinwoo had brought to wash, and then proceeded to dress himself. “Come back quick, really though. If you get sick, you’ll give it to all of us.”

“Don’t worry,” Jinwoo waved him off, already beginning to get out of the water. Oddly enough, he only felt cold once he was out of the water again, feeling the breeze on his wet skin. Seunghoon walked off after making sure he looked presentable, and Jinwoo wondered if Minho would have ever guessed what they did when they were alone together, when he wasn’t around to see.

-

Jinwoo’s tiny “Seung” that night was whispered, barely above one really. He was surprised Seunghoon had even heard him at all, but he did, for the other male sat up rather effortlessly a few seconds after Jinwoo had called out to him from the other side of the bed, which made Jinwoo suspect that Seunghoon had probably not been sleeping at all either. Tonight was Seunghoon’s turn on the bed, as Jinwoo had declared weeks before that they would begin to alternate every other night. Minho, though not actively showing his opposition to this notion, seemed a bit confused about the sudden suggestion. But it all watered down to Jinwoo simply being tired of seeing Seunghoon on the floor all the time, nothing but a few blankets between him and the hole-ridden floorboards. This he did not say, instead, ‘ _it’s only fair’_ he had reasoned, and that was enough for both Minho _and_ Seunghoon. Because like hell would he let Seunghoon think he actually…cared for him as much as he did. It had taken some coercing, Seunghoon being as hard-headed as he was, but after a particularly well-delivered plead, Jinwoo had managed to get him to agree.

Since he was on the floor, he’d had to sit up close to the edge of the bed so he could be heard correctly by Seunghoon who was already up and awaiting to hear what it was that Jinwoo wanted. “What?” It was late, his response almost too easy and sentient for someone who had just woken up, confirming that he had been awake. Jinwoo said nothing of it, only shifted around as he thought of how to pose his question.

“Why did you say you were happy? Earlier.”

Seunghoon, now leaning up on his shoulder, stared straight at Jinwoo’s face, his eyes discerning the intention to Jinwoo’s question, as if the question was more than just that, just a simple question Jinwoo had. “Do you want to know?”

His voice was eerily level, and suddenly, Jinwoo didn’t _know_ if he wanted to know now or what. Why did he sound so cryptic about it? Jinwoo found himself nodding anyways, slow and uncertain. _Maybe?_

“Remember how I said I’d only fired one shot with my gun after all of this?” Jinwoo nodded, curious now at the unexpected mention. Seunghoon paused for a long moment, and Jinwoo could have been tricked into thinking he really had fallen asleep, had Seunghoon not made a tiny hum in thought before finally continuing. “I tried killing myself once. Today we fired another, and I didn’t feel horrible about it.”

Jinwoo frowned despite himself, confused. Nothing was making sense. None of that had made any sense. _Seunghoon_ tried killing himself? He stared at Seunghoon almost skeptically, as fucked up as it felt doing so, and his expression became more somber when he realized Seunghoon wasn’t joking. “And why are you happy?”

“Because I _want_ to live now. You have no idea how liberating it was to use the gun and not feel the need to put the barrel against my head.” A pause. “Just knowing how many bullets there are to spare, and that there is still no temptation. I realized I do want to live.”

Jinwoo swallowed nervously, truly wondering now what the fuck it was that really went through Seunghoon’s head, if the thought that Seunghoon had been that unhappy at some point had never crossed his own mind. “That’s dark.”

“I guess,” Seunghoon yawned, laying his head onto the side and continuing to observe Jinwoo through the dark, “but it’s true.”

Jinwoo wanted to ask if he was okay. If he was lying, if he’d made that up just now. He kind of wished he had, wished Seunghoon was pulling his leg. He would prefer a sick joke over the truth. “Is it that easy?”

“What is?”

“Not wanting to die suddenly.”

“I didn’t say I don’t want to die now. I just want to live now too, most days.”

“Must be nice,” Jinwoo whispered, wondering if Seunghoon heard that as well. He seemed to hear everything Jinwoo said, even when he didn’t physically say anything.

“Hm. Well. I think we all want to live, we just don’t want to live the way we currently are. Who the fuck wants to live knowing they might die every single day?”

“It’s instinct, Seunghoon.”

“Yeah, but not everyone follows that instinct... Some people do what they deem fit.”

Jinwoo thought about that, picked it apart until the words repeated themselves in his head and didn’t sound right anymore. At some point he fell asleep, debating with himself now whether to continue believing a stupid survival instinct was trustworthy or not, because all it had caused him until now was a fate worse than even death.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhh tw for the s word, and i don't mean sex

It had been three day since the attack.

Three days since Seungyoon had fought off one of _them_. Three days since he’d screamed in the truest sort of pain Jinwoo had ever had the misfortune to hear. Three days of nonstop shaking for Jinwoo, nonstop anxiety.

“I don’t feel any different. Really, maybe it’s not as bad as we think.”

Jinwoo stared at Seungyoon from his place on the dusty hotel bed. The hotel room itself was untouched, as pristine as it had been left before the outbreak, save for the few telling signs that it had been weeks since it had been tended to, such as the fine layer if dust covering every surface. The bed had a ton of pillows too, and it had also been three days since Jinwoo and Seungyoon had first slept in a proper bed in weeks, probably since they had been forced out of their apartment.

The more he looked at Seungyoon, the more desperate he became. He felt if he looked away from him for a fraction of a second, his lover would simply be gone when he looked back. It was absolutely terrifying: the waiting. Waiting for… the signs to appear, the symptoms, the everything, the end. The end of Seungyoon. In turn, the end for Jinwoo as well. That’s all they were waiting for, and the scariest part was not knowing whether the waiting would even lead to anything, if they were worrying over nothing just like Seungyoon said. And Jinwoo hoped that was the case - but they just did not _know._ It was angering. It wasn’t fair.

Before he was aware of it, Jinwoo began to cry. He cried, though trying to hide his sniffles from Seungyoon who only sat on an armchair by the window, looking out at the setting sun. He was so beautiful, so beautiful Jinwoo only cried harder. Such beauty could not end so tragically, could it? That too could not _possibly_ be fair.

Jinwoo brought his knees up to his chest, wishing Seungyoon would hold him, but Jinwoo could not approach him now, not in this state. He couldn’t worry Seungyoon, cause him more pain. Why was Jinwoo thinking like that though? Seungyoon wasn’t going to _die,_ there was no way he’d allow it. He had felt for a moment though, that maybe if he accepted Seungyoon was going to die, it would be easier. But how _selfish_ of him to think that? He would not worry about his own emotions when Seungyoon might be dying, he absolutely detested himself in that moment for even considering having that form of thought.

If Seungyoon said he felt fine, it must mean he was fine, right?

“Jinnie.” Jinwoo looked up, blinking his tears away. His throat was in a tight knot, forcing down a pathetic cry just from having heard Seungyoon’s voice. “What’s wrong?” Seungyoon smiled, almost amused, and held his arms open, “Come here.”

“Yoon,” Jinwoo’s eyes squeezed shut, shaking his head. He felt so stupid, so useless. Never in his time with Seungyoon had he felt so lowly. And it wasn’t Seungyoon’s fault, it wasn’t even his own, because had they ever been placed in such a dire situation before, when things were normal?

He quickly opened his eyes after a second of silence, petrified of an absence of Seungyoon. Seungyoon pattered over to him and sunk onto the bed on his side, placed a warm hand on his thigh. “Don’t cry. I told you everything was going to be okay.”

“We- We don’t know that,” Jinwoo frowned, taking Seungyoon’s hand and bringing it to his chest, “I’m so worried, and- I don’t want you to go. Please.”

“Hey. Why are you being negative?” Seungyoon hummed, shifting up higher on the bed so he was hugging Jinwoo from behind. Jinwoo felt a warm kiss of the back of his neck, guilty now after hearing those words. “I love you - and I’m _never_ going to leave you. I don’t plan on it. I promise.”

Of course. Of course, if Seungyoon promised it, who was Jinwoo to question him? “Okay,” Jinwoo answered, because was there really any other option but to trust Seungyoon? No, not to him at least. Seungyoon had done so much for Jinwoo, had given him the past half-decade to him and only him; couldn’t Jinwoo at least trust his judgement? Yes, Jinwoo decided then that he would. “I believe you. I love you - so, so much, Yoonie.”

He suddenly remembered his pain right as he finished speaking, and what good would it do for his head to try to convince him that everything was going to be okay if his heart was just going to do whatever the hell it wanted? “I miss Thor,” Seungyoon said aloud. Jinwoo smiled at the mention of their poodle, turning in Seungyoon’s arms to poke at his chin.

“He was happy. I’m glad he didn’t have to see all this.” Thor had died about a year before their world went to shit, frankly put. It hadn’t been anything near traumatizing or gruesome, like many little animals in the city met their end. He had simply gone to sleep one day and not woken up anymore, the toll of living a long, happy life seeming to have caught up to him. Jinwoo smiled sadly at the thought. He had once wished he’d die of old age. He’d once wished he would live long, do things in life, go places, _live._ Now all they could do was survive and hope they made it to tomorrow. It angered Jinwoo that that’d been taken away from him, ripped from his grasp.

“Yeah, me too,” Seungyoon answered, pecking Jinwoo’s cheek, his jaw, his everything and running his hands through his hair, so gently, so sweetly, so devotedly, so Seungyoon. “You’re the light of my life,” he suddenly said into his neck, his breath encompassing Jinwoo in a shell of warmth not even thoughts of their impending death could penetrate, “I hope you know that.”

Jinwoo hugged him in response, silent tears staining his cheeks and toppling down onto Seungyoon’s hair. Seungyoon looked up, wiped his tears with his hands, rough from playing guitar but so perpetually gentle when it came to all things Jinwoo, “Smile for me.” He kissed him, plush and pleading, “It’s okay.”

Jinwoo pulled Seungyoon closer, wanting to feel all of Seungyoon press into him, almost wishing they could be one, one being and that they could remain together as such forever. “I love you,” Jinwoo repeated, desperate now. Seungyoon had to know, he had to remember it. “Seungyoon, I love you, I love you so-”

“I know, love, I know.” Their clothes were discarded, a mess on the floor, and Seungyoon too made them into a mess, on a squeaky hotel bed, under the dying light of the day. It was so unromantic, so unlike their home, their bed, their bubble, but it was perfect, because Seungyoon was there and Seungyoon had a weird ability to make everything absolutely perfect.

“Stay here,” Jinwoo begged as they’d finished, feeling Seungyoon in him and clenching as if to keep him in place, keep him in his embrace. He held him tighter to his flushed chest, hands slipping down with the perspiration of Seungyoon’s naked back. “Stay, please.” And Seungyoon remained with him, even after he’d disconnected their hips, even after they’d discovered the showers worked and had washed up before going to sleep. Even in his sleep, Seungyoon stayed with him. Jinwoo felt it, finally, after having felt nothing but fear in so long, and in three days, Jinwoo was finally able to sleep, his hopeful mind pretending it could block out the image of a swollen gash on the back of Seungyoon’s leg.

-

A loud thump was what woke Jinwoo up. The sound of someone darting into the bathroom, flipping the toilet lid open. Jinwoo sat up in confusion, squinting through the darkness of the room, and almost passed out at the sight he was able to make out. “Seung,” he called shakily, his heart pounding faster with every wretch that came out of Seungyoon’s throat.

Seungyoon was hunched over the toilet, throwing up more than Jinwoo was sure they had consumed in the past few days. What hurt Jinwoo the most were the sobs, the groans of pain that came with each hurl, and he decided he could not take any more of it, any more of not being there by his side and merely watching his lover go through…whatever it was that was happening to him. He was at Seungyoon’s side in an instant, pushing his hair back and telling him it was okay, that he was fine, because that was what Seungyoon had said, no? That was what Seungyoon had promised, had he not?

“Baby,” Jinwoo mewled when he was done, watching as Seungyoon’s chest heaved, watching as his previously whitened grip on the ceramic bowl colored again as he let go.

“I’m okay,” Seungyoon assured, his footing unsteady as he clambered over to the sink, splashing his face with water, rinsing his mouth. He gagged again, slapping a hand over his mouth, and Jinwoo was afraid he’d throw up again, but Seungyoon only uncovered his mouth after a moment, took a deep breath and turned the faucet off. His chest wasn’t rising as harshly as it had before, calming Jinwoo slightly. He could feel his heart in his throat.

It was silent, deafeningly so, and Jinwoo’s mind rushed with terror once again. He wondered what Seungyoon was thinking, wished he could guarantee that he was fine, that he would protect Seungyoon, that nothing would hurt him, not if he allowed it. But he only stared, stared at the now flushed toilet, stared at Seungyoon’s leg.

“Let’s sleep,” Seungyoon suggested, leaning down to pull Jinwoo up. Jinwoo felt weightless, like he was floating. He didn’t realize when his feet had taken him over to the bed, or how they had even managed to do so, or when he had hugged Seungyoon, when he had brought the blanket close to them. His body was buzzing in unrest, mind going at light speed as he tried to find a reason for Seungyoon’s sudden bout of nausea that did not automatically lead to…that. The Worst Case Scenario.

Jinwoo wasn’t sure if Seungyoon had actually slept that night. He remembers waking up in the morning sometimes and trying to get him out of bed, convinced Seungyoon was asleep, when in reality, he had been awake all along. Seungyoon was good at pretending, and it was reasonable for Jinwoo to question whether he had truly found sleep after that or not.

But Jinwoo himself remained awake. Eyes wide and watering every once and a while as he stared at Seungyoon’s sleeping form, not wanting to think that there was a possibility that some day would come, some distant future would greet him, with no Seungyoon, with no warmth, with no light. He didn’t want that future. He would rather have death than a life without Seungyoon. He would rather not exist, disappear if Seungyoon left him.

His eyes burned with lack of sleep when morning came. They felt swollen and stung whenever he blinked. He let Seungyoon sleep for as long as _he_ could bear to see him sleep. It filled him with an ominous pang in his stomach to see Seungyoon lying so motionlessly, save for the steady rise and fall of his chest that confirmed he was still there.

He knew it was irrational and self-serving, but after the sun was well in the sky, he gave into his wishes and stopped his pacing around the room, went over to kneel next to Seungyoon on the bed and rubbed his arm gently to awaken him. “Yoonie,” he said softly, hating how his voice broke, “Yoonie, wake up. Come on.”

Seungyoon hummed, squeezing his eyes shut in a groan, and all Jinwoo could do was sigh in slight relief when he blinked his eyes open, smiling sleepily and pecking the corner of Jinwoo’s mouth, “Hey. You okay now?”

“Are _you_ okay?” Jinwoo frowned, not knowing why on earth Seungyoon was concerned about him. “Do you feel better?”

“I don’t know,” Seungyoon said quietly, laying his head back and staring at the ceiling for a moment. For once, Jinwoo felt like Seungyoon was not just saying he was fine for Jinwoo’s sake, that he was not guarding his emotions. Jinwoo - though his stomach plummeted at the ambiguity - appreciated Seungyoon’s honesty beyond words, knowing that he was finally thinking about himself and voicing how he truly felt, letting Jinwoo care for him for once. “I don’t feel anything now.”

Jinwoo nodded, reaching up to hold his hand, “Let’s eat something, come on.”

Seungyoon blinked in response and smiled again, sitting up with a slight groan. Jinwoo felt his breath get knocked out of his throat for a second, “S-Seung.” He extended his hand to cup the side of Seungyoon’s head, only then noticing the blood sticking to his bleached hair. The pillow from which he had raised his head was also soaked in blood, now dried and seeped into the cotton. “Your head, you’re bleeding!”

“No,” Seungyoon shook his head, hesitantly touching his hair and pushing the strands aside with his fingers, “It’s my ear.”

“What- We…We need to find help or something, we need to find someone. There has to be a way, you know? Something we can do-”

“I don’t think there’s…anything we can do if it’s _that_ , Jinwoo,” Seungyoon stated blankly, pushing the blanket off himself and standing up. He headed over to the sink, washed the side of his face, washed the blood away like nothing was wrong as Jinwoo’s heart broke into a billion pieces.

Jinwoo felt like someone was choking him, strangling him. He felt so finished, it felt as if Seungyoon had already died, when, no, Seungyoon was standing right there. But for how long? How long? It’d taken three days for the first symptoms to appear; now all the signs were coming in one, great onslaught of pain, and Jinwoo could not bear to imagine how worse it would all get from there. Seungyoon, his Seungyoon was…going to die. And there was absolutely _nothing_ he could do about it. Jinwoo shook his head, clutched his forehead as if his brain were splitting into two. “Please, don’t say that-” he stopped with a sob, feeling like he was going crazy, feeling himself go hysterical. “It’s not that. It’s not!”

“Woo,” Seungyoon turned around, seeming to realize how the entire… _situation_ seemed to really be affecting Jinwoo. His demeanor changed, and again Jinwoo could feel himself acting selfish, because he wasn’t the one who was going to possibly _die._ He was fine. But he wasn’t, no, he was not. Seungyoon however, made a little sound, as if he’d just done something wrong, an ‘ah’, like ‘oh, my bad’. He knelt down by Jinwoo’s legs, a small nod that turned into a firm one as he slowly understood it all. He took Jinwoo’s hands, a pained furrow in his eyebrows, “How am I…supposed to leave you?”

“You’re not going to, because you’re not going to die,” Jinwoo hiccupped, sinking to the floor and holding Seungyoon close to him, breathing him in, kissing his hair, clinging to his shirt as if he would vanish otherwise. “You’re not going to leave me, dammit!”

“And if I do?” Jinwoo’s shoulders shook as he began to formulate a protest, but Seungyoon held his face softly and Jinwoo could only bite back a sob at the deep, warm eyes looking into his own, “Jinwoo, if I die, you have to live. Your life is so precious, baby-” Jinwoo’s throat closed up as he heard a soft sniff escape Seungyoon, seeing his nostrils flair slightly and his cheeks turn red, as they always did when he was going to cry. Jinwoo shook his head frantically, wiped away tears that had not even fully fallen from Seungyoon’s eyes. He was so in love. He was so sick in love, and it hurt. Love wasn’t supposed to hurt, it wasn’t supposed to be taken away from one the way it was being taken from Jinwoo.

“You mean the world to me,” Seungyoon whispered, his hands shaky on Jinwoo’s shoulders. He moved them up and down, as he did with his eyes, as if trying to memorize every inch of Jinwoo, trying to ingrain his image into his memory forever. “I can’t die without you promising that…that you’ll continue to live. For us. You can’t die. _You cannot die, Jinwoo!”_

Jinwoo squeezed his eyes shut, his forehead falling to Seungyoon’s chest. That seemed too impossible. How could Seungyoon possibly think Jinwoo was going to be able to do that? Live? Without Seungyoon? “You understand, right?” And Jinwoo wanted to shake his head, wanted to be honest and admit that he had no clue how the hell he was supposed to accomplish that, but he only remained still in thought. What if this was all he could do for Seungyoon? The only thing he could promise him besides his love. _This is so sick. I couldn’t protect you from harm, I couldn’t do anything useful for you. And now you’re going to die. You’re going to die and I can’t even promise to live. I can’t even fulfill one of your last requests._ It couldn’t be. “I love you so much, and I need you to be strong. I need you to live. You’re all I have left, you’re all I need. If I di- No, _when_ I die, you’re going to stay safe. I know you will.”

“I can’t,” Jinwoo whined pathetically, so tired of crying, of the pain. He felt like a lunatic. Or more like a sad sack of nothing. “I can’t do it without you.”

“You’re not going to have a choice. I’m sorry,” Seungyoon’s voice finally broke. Jinwoo realized then that he understood. Seungyoon hugged him, leaning back against the mattress, and, yes, he understood. His breath shuddered as he began to cry with Jinwoo, shared his pain, shared his despair. He understood how hard it would be, understood how desperate for his own death he was going to leave Jinwoo. He understood that he was abandoning Jinwoo alone in their burning world and more sobs wracked his chest. He understood that Jinwoo was going to be lost without him, but Jinwoo promised then to try his best to prevail.

“I will,” he said simply, not being able to get anything else out of his trembling lips, “I’ll do it.”

Seungyoon’s arms tightened around his shoulders, “Y-Yes. Yes, I know you will, baby. I know. You’re so strong, so good for me.”

“I’m s-sorry. I wish I could give you more.”

“No! No, my love,” Seungyoon pulled back, pressing his lips to Jinwoo’s chastely, smiling sadly, “You’ve done more than I could ever ask. _I_ wish I didn’t have to make you promise something like this.” He swallowed, eyes watering again, “You’ve made my life so much better, you’ve given me so much meaning.”

_You have, too. But now you’re leaving. Seungyoon. Seungyoon. Seungyoon. Seungyoon, don’t go. Please, don’t go. Please. Don’t do this to me, please. Please._

They silenced, stayed locked together until their sobs ceased. Listened to each other breathe until…

Seungyoon’s coughs were intermittent at first. He’d cough every half hour, for maybe a minute, and then stop. They didn’t mention it, though an invisible hand squeezed Jinwoo’s insides whenever Seungyoon’s body rustled against his. And now. Now. “What is it?” Jinwoo asked quietly, immediately sitting up and brushing Seungyoon’s hair away from his forehead as he coughed, harder than before. Seungyoon made a small noise from the back of his throat, his eyebrows furrowed. Jinwoo observed his flushed cheeks, felt how hot they were. Seungyoon’s eyes were unfocused, like he was intoxicated, “Does it hurt? Yoon. Hey!”

“It- My stomach,” he began before breaking into another fit of coughs, stronger and causing his whole body to shake. Jinwoo was scared, he was terrified. He didn’t think of this to come _now._ Not _this_ soon. Seungyoon continued to cough, hack until his eyes were tearing up again. He pulled his hand away after a moment, when the coughs calmed. The sound he made as he looked at his hands was so scared, so vulnerable, so hopeless, Jinwoo wanted to scream, scream until a solution appeared or until the end came. Seungyoon had blood on his hands; Seungyoon was coughing up blood.

Seungyoon laid his head on Jinwoo’s lap, his body shaking as if he had been tossed in an icy lake. He was crying. Seungyoon didn’t make any sound as he cried, but Jinwoo felt the drops seep into his pants, one by one. “Open the window,” he sniffed, sitting up after a moment as he coughed again, “I’ll get you sick! Open the window, or the door, I don’t care. Just please.” His voice shook as he spoke, the urgency making Jinwoo immediately stand, rush to the large glass door and sliding it open with sore arms.

“There,” Jinwoo tried smiling, his lips tight and cracked, “I-I opened it, Yoonie.” He began to make his way back to Seungyoon who was attempting to stand by pulling himself back up onto the bed, but the other man raised up a hand and shook it, stopping him in his tracks. Jinwoo frowned in confusion, a dull ache behind his eyes. “What is it?”

“Just sit by the window for now,” Seungyoon said, his head bowed down. It hurt him as much as it hurt Jinwoo, then. He was so defeated, like he had not done everything he could have. Above all things in life, Jinwoo hated seeing Seungyoon disappointed in himself. How dare he, when he had been nothing short of prefect all his life? Seungyoon was the last person who should be sorry.

Jinwoo’s arms yearned to reach out and return to Seungyoon’s embrace. Never had he felt so much pain as he did then. Seungyoon was still alive and now he couldn’t even hold him in these moments.

Jinwoo wasn’t sure where or when he found his voice, but the anger towards life’s cruel ways, the despair towards their situation, it came crashing down upon him, squeezing his chest until his lungs exploded. “This is so fucked up!” he cried, eyes streaming but the rest of his face red with rage, “I don’t care if I get sick, I just want to hold y-!”

“ _I_ care if you get sick!” Seungyoon waved his hands, his eyes wide over the vitality he thundered with. Jinwoo stopped short at Seungyoon’s strength, a wave of hope or something utterly ridiculous washing over him. But then Seungyoon started coughing again, doubling over as he tried covering his mouth. Jinwoo’s veins were icy at the sight of the blood specks staining the white. “I’ve made such a mess,” Seungyoon laughed humorlessly, smacking his hand onto the stained sheets and balling them into his fist, his grip white.

“I can’t take this,” Jinwoo clutched his arms around himself, looking around the hotel room. It felt too small, but Seungyoon felt so far, nothing made sense. He felt frantic but powered off. He could touch Seungyoon if he took maybe three steps, if he reached. He squeezed his arms tighter, holding his body upright.

He crashed onto the armchair by the window, switching places with Seungyoon from the day before. “Talk to me,” he pleaded, eyes not moving from Seungyoon who sat with his back against the pillows, “Tell me anything.”

“I would eat meat again if it meant everything could go back to normal.”

Jinwoo stared at Seungyoon, not knowing how he was supposed to laugh anymore. Seungyoon sighed, licked his lips, “I’m sorry.” He paused, a deep frown on his lips, “Can I be real with you?”

“You know you can, Yoon.”

“Okay. I don’t want to turn into one of them.”

Jinwoo tensed, “I don’t want you to either.” Wasn’t that the point of all of the _mess_ of emotions Jinwoo had been reduced to?

“No. I’m going to die, but I am not going to become one of them.”

“I don’t understand,” Jinwoo trailed off, feeling uneasy about the air of uncertainty Seungyoon’s words induced. He was afraid now, of everything that was not certain. Seungyoon was going to die, that was certain. Now Seungyoon was saying he was not going to become one of _them._ It was…supposed to have been certain that he would. “What are you saying?” Did he want to know? He had a few ideas of what Seungyoon was implying, but he did not want to consider any of them, and _that_ was all he was suddenly certain about.

“I want you to do something for me. It’s going to be-” a cough bubbled out of Seungyoon’s lips, forcing him to stop, “It’s going to be really difficult, I-I know it will-”

“No,” Jinwoo shook his head, his eyes serious and unwavering, “No, nonono. I know what you’re going to say. And no. H-How could you even… _think_ of asking me to do something like that?”

“I,” Seungyoon bit his lip, his face pale and grim, “I’m in _pain,_ Woo. I don’t want to be one of them! I want to die like _this,_ not continue to live as a shell. It hurts.” He covered his face, shoulders shaking, “It hurts so much.”

“Seung…” Jinwoo’s voice softened.

He was…being selfish again.

Seungyoon was in pain, and all Jinwoo could think about was about how much putting Seungyoon out of his _misery_ would hurt his own self.

Seungyoon had a way of making him feel like he was the most important person on earth. Seungyoon made him feel like he was the purest light in existence. But now - now that the idea of Seungyoon, the entity that was Seungyoon, _Seungyoon_ was going to die, the more Jinwoo felt like he was really the worst person to ever exist.

That was the first time since knowing Seungyoon that Jinwoo had truly hated himself.

“Yoonie, I’m sorry,” Jinwoo stood up, feeling salty tears collect at the corners of his mouth, “I’m sorry. I-I’m just…I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I- No,” Seungyoon wiped his face, coughing from the back of his throat and sniffling, “I shouldn’t have asked that.”

Jinwoo stood at the end of the bed awkwardly, having not a single clue how to proceed. There was something unnerving about the way Seungyoon assented so easily to Jinwoo’s denial to go through with his request. There was something very _not_ right about the way Seungyoon smiled, a new kind of melancholy in his eyes as he looked at Jinwoo.

Hopeless. Sorry. Final. ‘This is the end,’ they said. ‘This is the end, it’s a shame, and I’m sorry.’

When the sun died and night came, something heavy settled onto Jinwoo’s chest. A vice-like pressure, omnipotent and crushing. There was no moon for them, only a black, inky sky. No celestial blue, no wispy clouds. Only the expansive nothingness, like a gaping mouth threatening to swallow the earth whole.

They gathered clean sheets, all of the pillows, and slept on the balcony that night. Though there was no moon, there were stars. Jinwoo thanked the heavens that there were some figures in the sky that night. It was as if the sky was saying ‘Sorry, there’s no moon tonight, but have the stars. Have the stars, one last time.’ Jinwoo was eternally grateful.

One last time.

One last time? Impossible. It was hard to believe. No Seungyoon? That made no sense. It made no sense, and things that made no sense were frightening. Things that made no sense should have no reason to hurt so much.

Seungyoon pointed out all the major stars, constellations, bodies, all of them, all of the ones he recognized and remembered. Jinwoo almost wanted to tell him to sleep, to save his energy for tomorrow, but once again, the selfish side of him shined through, and something told him there would be no point, because there would be no tomorrow for Seungyoon to save his energy for.

It was so _terrible._

Jinwoo clung onto Seungyoon’s every word, every syllable. He repeated them in his mind, carved them into the inside of his skull. Jinwoo thought they would confess things to each other that night, secrets that had to be told before they lost the opportunity to do so, but he realized that there were no secrets to tell. Seungyoon and he had bared themselves to each other in their entirety, and Jinwoo smiled into the dark, overjoyed. There were no secrets to confess, so they only reminisced. There was no point in discussing the future, and that was okay. It was horrible, it was agonizing, but it was okay. Every past second up until that exact moment was all they had, and that…that was more valuable than anything now.

“I love you,” Jinwoo whispered when he was on the edge of sleep. He held Seungyoon close, gripped his hand. How was he supposed to let go?

His body was betraying him, making him succumb to unconsciousness. Making him close his eyes when all he wanted to do was drink in all of Seungyoon while he still could. His eyelids were so heavy, his mind was in an undecipherable fog. “Seung…Seungyoon, I _love_ you. You’re the…best. I’ll love you _forever_ …”

“I’ll always love you, Jinwoo. My sweet, strong Jinwoo, I’ll always…”

Jinwoo couldn’t open his eyes anymore, and Seungyoon’s voice felt like it was coming from behind him, or maybe from above, or maybe from under. He didn’t know, sleep was taking over his body, numbing everything but the pain in his chest, which was very much aware of their ephemeral time, ticking, ticking, counting down, down, to one…to zero…to nothing. To nothing.

-

His side was cold. His side was empty, devoid of the bodily comfort that had previously accompanied him.

“Seungyoon,” Jinwoo sat up, eyes wide and searching around the small space of the balcony. He stood up, his body a few steps ahead of his mind. His poor mind, rushing, rushing, not understanding. The world was so ugly during the day. His drowsy state crawled away in a sinking terror as the distant ground met his eyes, his hands tight on the railing of the balcony.

He turned away from the sight, rushed inside to the hotel room. “Seungyoon,” he called again. “H-Hey, where are you?”

It was so silent, Jinwoo swore he could hear his bones shaking in fear. He felt alone. No, he couldn’t be alone, right? Seungyoon was there. But where? Where was he? “Seungyoon,” he cried desperately, rushing to the bathroom door. The doorknob jangled under his tearing grip, but the door remained shut, laughing at him, mocking him. Why was it locked? His head spun; the world tilted.

“Seungyoon!” his palm came against the wood of the door, over and over, “Open up, please!” he persisted, even when he understood what was happening. He persisted, even if he knew now that his efforts were in vain. “Please…” he sobbed, sinking to the floor, knocks dying, dying, until his hand only stayed planted on the door, his tears blinding him.

His brain was running amok, his senses were mixing until nothing could process correctly, everything short-circuiting and stopping. He searched for a solution for something that could no longer be resolved. Maybe he should have given up, maybe he should have left, even if it hurt, even if it killed him.

His hands gripped around the metallic lamp that had been on the end table, ramming it down against the doorknob with all the fight he had left in him. It took four hits for the wood around the knob to crack, five for it to loosen, six for it to give in. He flung the door open and dropped the lamp, eyes wildly searching for what he so desperately needed to find.

And… it was like everything became nothing. Like nothing mattered, like _he_ was dead. “No,” he mewled when he processed that Seungyoon…was just lying there, still, unmoving. Slapping a hand onto his mouth as he broke down into confused, hysterical tears, he crumbled to the ground. What a joke everything was. What a cruel fucking joke.

Seungyoon could have passed off for someone sleeping. His head was laid delicately against the edge of the bathtub, an empty bottle of prescription medication next to him. Jinwoo mouth fell open as a silent cry forced its way out of him as he truly understood that- “No, no! Seungyoon-” And he couldn’t breathe. Try as he might, the air seemed thin, like he was breathing from a straw.

He snatched the medicine bottle, once filled with chemicals that were supposed to alleviate pain, but that was now causing Jinwoo something akin to an onslaught of burning, something akin to being torn into pieces.

But it had relieved Seungyoon of his pain. “Oh, god.” Jinwoo’s lungs rose and fell rapidly, the empty plastic falling to the ground as his fingers came up to dig into the sides of his face. “Please, _please_ …this isn’t…”

Seungyoon was dead. Seungyoon was _actually_ dead. Had he not understood that before? If he hadn’t, he realized it then. Seungyoon was dead. “Oh, no no-” Seungyoon was gone. Seungyoon was not going to speak anymore, smile. Seungyoon was not ever going to be warm again. He reached a trembling hand over to Seungyoon’s, but he flinched and retracted it when he felt the icy skin. Seungyoon was still, he was so impossibly still. “Please, wake up,” Jinwoo wailed in defeat, suddenly not caring if Seungyoon was cold, for he draped his body over his lover, breathed unto him his own life, as if that would wake Seungyoon up, make him come back. Jinwoo would give him all his warmth, he would be his sun if Seungyoon needed for him to be. He would give him his life, he would…he would- “This can’t- No, Seungyoon, _please!_ Please, just wake up, don’t go,” Jinwoo sobbed, tore his throat to shreds. He could touch Seungyoon, he could feel him, he was _right there_ , he was in his arms.

Jinwoo had never felt so alone. He held Seungyoon’s head up to his chest, buried his face into his hair, inhaled the remainder of what had once been life. He hugged Seungyoon harder than he ever had in his life, but still wary of not…hurting him. As if Seungyoon could feel pain. As if Seungyoon could feel anything. Jinwoo’s mind felt blank, he felt empty, he felt abandoned and so, _so_ lost.

His sobbed into Seungyoon’s shirt, imagining his lover’s arms wrapping around him, imagining his voice. _It’s okay, don’t cry._ He would never hear that again. That couldn’t be true. He was in a nightmare, he was trapped in a lucid dream.

For a moment he forgot what Seungyoon had made him promise, for a moment he forgot he was supposed to continue living. For a moment, that didn’t matter, all he wanted to do was join Seungyoon wherever he was.

And then.

_For my Jinwoo,_

_I’m really sorry you had to find me like this. I’m sorry that I have abandoned you, that you’re alone now. I wish I could change it all, that you could be happy at all times. But you’re my all, and even now, I don’t regret a single moment with you. I just wish you never had to feel pain. You’re so amazing. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I’ll die believing that. You taught me love. You taught me how to love, you made me the best version of myself I could ever possibly be. I’m so thankful for you. I know all this sounds cliché, but I don’t really care, because it’s all true. I can’t be there to walk next to you anymore, to be by your side, but I swear to you, Jinwoo - I will never, ever leave you. So I guess you’re not really alone. I’m here. I promise. Don’t be afraid, okay? Don’t be frightened. The world is yours for the taking. Breathe. See. Touch. Experience it all. Live. Please, live. Every sensation, every feeling, enjoy it. Cry, laugh, scream. It doesn’t matter what you do, just live and know that I love you. I love you so so so much, Jinwoo. So much I can’t describe it, so much it makes everything okay, there is no pain! I know it may seem tough at times, and that the world will seem so sick, so horrible, but you’re in it, and anything involving you is worth it, that I believe. Anything with you is beautiful and so really wonderful. There is an end to everything, but you are eternal in my heart, and I will leave this world knowing that it was you who made life worth it all._

_I love you, forever and ever and ever!_

_\- Yoonie_

The note was on the bed. It took an entire day for Jinwoo to find it, written in tiny, neat lettering on the back of the one photo Jinwoo had taken with him from the apartment. He’d almost crumpled it in his weak grip. It was so unfair. It made him feel so loved, but there was no one he could thank, no Seungyoon to see his bleary, tearful smile. It was so unfair. Did his happiness matter if he had no one to share it with? Did he matter if Seungyoon wasn’t there to laugh with him, hold his hand, tell him everything was going to be okay, remind him that he mattered, remind him that he loved him, _be_ there to tell him this? There was an ocean surrounding him. It was like the sky. And no matter what direction he went in, he only sank deeper and deeper. There was no way out. There was no one to save him. There was only him and the sinking. There was no Seungyoon.

No one heard his screams.


	8. Chapter 8

“Help me collect water, hyung.”

The day was hot. Dry and grating. The metal handle of the flower watering cans stung in Jinwoo’s grip, made him walk a little faster towards the cabin after he and Minho had filled them up to the brim. A few cup-worth wallows fell out from the small opening onto the leafy ground, darkening the earth, with every too-sudden step they took.

Jinwoo stayed to help Minho water the tiny patches of greens they had behind the cabin, making idle chat with the boy. “It’s such an ugly day,” Jinwoo sighed once they were finished, squinting against the sun. The cabin was in a clearing, which, of course, meant there were no trees to block the annoying rays.

“It’s perfect,” Minho countered, smiling and sighing, “I love the spring.”

Jinwoo agreed, the spring was beautiful. He suddenly disliked himself for complaining so much. “What I mean is the sun, it’s just so hot,” he whined, retracting in a more positive manner.

Minho lead them back to the front cabin door with another, this time understanding, smile, nodding in agreement. “Yes, I’d be worried if I were pasty like you.”

“Minho!”

They walked inside, playfully bickering, but a napping Seunghoon made their chatter die down. His posture was upright, looking only as if he were deep in thought with his eyes closed, but the pillows and folded blankets cushioning his slumped back against the wall, and his small snores that came went made it was obvious he was in a comfortable slumber. Jinwoo sat at the end of the bed and took in the sight of him with a constricting fondness, much like when he looked at Minho, but completely different all the same.

“He’s been more relaxed lately,” Minho commented quietly, retrieving his notebook from his designated corner-of-things and coming down to rest next to Jinwoo, laying his head on his lap. He opened the notebook to read, which covered his face, and Jinwoo only had his voice to discern what he was thinking when he spoke next: “I think it’s because you’re here with us.”

Jinwoo’s hands that had come down to comb Minho’s hair stopped for a moment, but Minho did not seem to notice, luckily, so he quickly continued to pet the younger, a stiff smile on his lips. “…Why do you say that?” Jinwoo asked, trying to maintain a nonchalant composure.

Minho shifted the book down, “Who wouldn’t be happy around you?” he snorted in amusement, as if it were such an obvious fact. It meant a lot that Minho of all people ( _all_ two of the other people whose lives Jinwoo was inhabiting) was the one saying that, because for Jinwoo, Minho was the liveliest person he’d come across in a long while, a refreshing splash of life in a dreary world. “You’re so…I don’t know how to describe it. You make the air fluffy. Like clouds, like…fabric softener - you know?”

“Oh, fabric softener! That’s so poetic and sweet,” Jinwoo smiled, poking his nose.

Minho reach up to grab the hand jabbing him, pouting his lips. “You know what I mean.”

“I think so,” Jinwoo nodded, pretending to still be lost. But he knew what Minho meant, somehow, and he knew Minho knew he understood. Yes, like fabric softener. Comforting, oddly familiar, soothing, warm. Jinwoo did not think he was any of those things, but if Minho thought so, he would not taint his illusion, as he was in no place to do so.

“Hyung,” Minho said after a few minutes. Jinwoo blinked away from the wall Seunghoon was laying against, turning his attention to the younger humming, his fingers moving through his hair again. “I love you.”

Jinwoo’s heart skipped, hating how he _felt_ the emotion in Minho’s words, the truth in them. Minho had a way of saying things that felt so raw, so passionate, so vulnerable and exposed. But it was perfectly controlled, Minho was so in control of his emotions; he only spoke in such a way to Jinwoo, and only when he wanted to. Jinwoo envied him.

Jinwoo leaned down and pressed a supple kiss to his lips.

-

It was funny. He wasn’t sure how he had suddenly remembered the brew mixture for the tea he had only heard about once, in a passing conversation Seungyoon and he had once had.

The spring was ending, and with the beginning of summer came long, showery days of being sheltered inside. It was surprising how much more claustrophobic it felt than the rain that had kept them in during the autumn and winter. This rain felt choking, humid, while the other permeated your bones and made you sleepy. Maybe Jinwoo had taken the colder seasons for granted.

But the flowers the summer rain brought…

Jinwoo had no clue, no clue how he recognized the orange buds. He didn’t even know their name, only their genus and what they looked like, since Seungyoon had been adamant on not telling him the actual name - though Jinwoo could have easily looked it up at the time - for fear that…what? He’d get high? Seungyoon must have been disappointed with him then, he had thought with an amused smile when picked the bright flowers. Of all the flora Seungyoon had detailed to him, the ones he remembered most vividly were ones that were supposed to make you feel like you’d drank one too many soju bottles.

Anything to fend off the rain-induced cabin fever.

“How do we know you’re not poisoning us?” Seunghoon had asked, moments before the thunder rumbled the walls around them and the familiar hissing of rain began.

“I don’t know either,” Jinwoo stated seriously, poking at the tiny fire in wrought-iron stove. He turned around after silence met his joke, and he smiled at the taller man, smiling brightly, “I’m only kidding.”

“I trust hyung,” Minho professed from where he hung upside down off the bed, looking every bit the child he really was, “And even if he was poisoning us, any death from hyung would be a sweet one.”

“Hyung is drugging us,” Seunghoon laughed sarcastically, smacking Minho’s forehead lightly as he sat on the floor next to his dangling body.

“You know, the Chinese would drink this before going into war. It’s supposed to cloud your judgement,” Jinwoo informed in a matter-of-fact manner, sprinkling only a few of the flower buds into the pot of water he had set out, “Let’s hope we don’t kill each other if it’s a bad trip.”

“You are so funny today,” Seunghoon smiled dramatically, stretching his leg out to poke the back of Jinwoo’s thigh with his toe, “So charming. I feel so assured.”

“Don’t be a spoilsport,” Jinwoo waved a hand, slowly spinning the flowers around in the pot. He heard Seunghoon begin to make conversation with Minho, took in the tone he held when he spoke to him. It was unlike anything he had ever heard from Seunghoon. It was a tone that was reserved only for Minho, and that made Jinwoo’s stomach turn with odd, tumultuous sensations. It sounded so easy, the way they spoke. Like real friends, or even lovers who had been together forever. There were no awkward silences, no searching for something to say.

Jinwoo cast them a sideways glance and noticed how soft Seunghoon’s shoulders look, how his head was lolled back in ease, and how he looked at Minho as the younger spoke with a smile. He held the younger male’s glasses in his hands, distractedly opening the them and closing them, his entire attention focused solely on Minho.

Though he was not alone in that room, Jinwoo suddenly felt very lonely looking at them interact.

Jinwoo wished Minho and Seunghoon could have been a thing before he came into their lives. He wished they would have made a different sort of space for him in their makeshift home. He wished they could have been just friends, that the other two would be so in love, neither would pay mind to Jinwoo, and Jinwoo would pay no mind to them, and he would only be left to heal his own wounds, continue to live for himself.

But he was an idiot. And things were not like that, and they would never be like that.

He had disrupted a cycle of sorts, and Minho being in love with him, and his attraction for Seunghoon being reduced to nothing but insignificant lust, never to be returned, and the ever-looming sensation that he was going to die alone…it was all his price to pay. From the moment he lied to Minho and said he liked him, from the moment he slept with Seunghoon and made everything more complicated than it had to be, he had ruined what could have been two, healthy, beautifully dynamic friendships.

He really was stupid.

The saying that a watched pot would never boil did not feel very true, for the tea began to bubble sooner than Jinwoo had expected, rousing him from his bitter daydream. “It’s done,” Jinwoo stated, not caring if anyone heard him or not. He wasn’t even in the mood to drink the tea for the sake of fun, all he wanted to do was curl up by the window and sleep. The cabin felt stuffy and he could feel his shirt sticking to his back.

“Let’s sweat the heat out,” Minho encouraged, earning a playful ‘ew’ from Seunghoon.

Jinwoo filled three ceramic mugs with the tea, handing one to Minho who had now sat up on the bed, and another to Seunghoon on the floor. “Thanks,” he said, eyeing Jinwoo. Jinwoo had no clue what his look meant, but Jinwoo suddenly felt very transparent, and he didn’t like that all too much, especially not when it was Seunghoon reading him, and especially not in that particular instant.

“Why so little?” Minho asked, looking down at the half empty mug.

“It’s really strong,” Jinwoo told him. He took a sip, felt the slightly bitter liquid travel down his throat. “Drink it while it’s hot, and don’t drink it too fast.”

“I-” Seunghoon looked down at this own, a nervous smile raising his already high cheekbones, “I’m already halfway done. Oh, no, I’m not going to - _die,_ or something, right?”

“No, you’ll just…” Jinwoo grimaced, seeing redness start to creep up Seunghoon’s neck, a stupid smile on his face.

“Woah, I feel, like…numb. Like at the dentist. Hyung, this is nice, like, good, really nice.”

“Like, like, like,” Minho mocked, taking a slow sip of his tea, “You’re dead, hyung. This is it, this is where you die.”

It was weird, seeing Seunghoon smile so much. A few minutes passed, and he began to giggle whenever Minho said anything. He sat up on the bed next to the younger, laid his head on his shoulder. Minho wrapped a hesitant arm around him, throwing Jinwoo a hesitant smile. Jinwoo shrugged, made sure to let Minho know that it was okay. _Yes, you can hug your best friend, I’m not going to take that away from you._

It was a while before all three of them were finished with their tea. Jinwoo was the last to finish, the last sips cold and plain. Minho had rushed to finish his at some point, sipping it all before it lost its heat, and he was no sporting an equally ruddy expression, a small sweat on his hairline. “I feel so light,” he mumbled, somehow having found a space between Seunghoon’s thighs. His back was sagged against Seunghoon’s chest, and they both sat against the wall. Seunghoon’s hands were gently clasped in front of Minho. Gentle. Seunghoon was never really gentle with Jinwoo.

They looked so…fitting with one another. They molded into one another so perfectly, it made Jinwoo want to shake with anger or sadness or both or neither. Maybe he was happy that this was happening, maybe he wanted to accept it. Maybe it was easier that way.

No.

It hurt, actually.

Fuck, it hurt. Jinwoo was a little dizzy when he pushed himself off the wall next to the stove, but he forced his steps into a steady gait towards the door. He felt sick. He felt like he’d hurl if he didn’t get away. His lungs felt like they were running on water vapor, inhaling water, and he felt he would pass out from sheer heat.

“Where’re you going…?” Minho slurred, attempting to smile at Jinwoo.

“Outside, Minho,” Jinwoo quietly replied, though he didn’t stay to see if Minho heard. The outside - which had once felt hot and gross with all the rain and its sun and its mosquitoes and its moss and its dew - was like a refreshing air conditioner, blowing a steady breeze onto Jinwoo’s overheated face. He wiped sweat from over his lips, inhaled the slightly bettered air.

It smelled like life. He wished Seungyoon was there to breathe with him.

Jinwoo gathered himself back up, stepped back towards the cabin door. His lungs felt replenished, his pores unclogged. Then he opened the door.

It was a little shocking. He didn’t process a single though or emotion when he saw Seunghoon kissing Minho, not in its entirety. He didn’t know _what_ to feel. He had no right to feel betrayed, did he? He had no right to feel any sort of ownership over either of the two, to feel any offense at the sight. Then why did it squeeze his heart, squeeze and squeeze until it felt like it would stop beating from the pressure. Seunghoon looked so eager, so willing. He held Minho’s face towards his own with a furrow in his brows, like nothing in his entire life would ever peak that moment, like he wasn’t willing to go just yet. Minho was more careful. Jinwoo could see the tight grip he had on Seunghoon’s arms, surprised, curious. It was their first kiss…

“I love you,” he heard Seunghoon whisper, and-

Jinwoo closed the door without a single sound. He let them have that moment.

He got it. There was no space for him here. Was this it, then? What he had so desperately wished for? Better yet, was _this_ his purpose in life? Was this what he had been kept alive to fulfill? To be the catalyst to the relationship that was destined to bloom between the two friends? Was his entire…point to make them come together? Because if they were together, nothing he had done or did in the future, none of the air he breathed would matter, because he had thought Seunghoon was why he was still breathing, that Seunghoon was his newfound reason to stay alive when he had been close to letting his promise to Seungyoon slip from his fingers. He didn’t get it, he didn’t get himself, he didn’t understand what he wanted anymore, what his motives were.

He wasn’t a fucking love angel, he wasn’t fighting with his own thoughts every day to amount to nothing but to play Cupid. That was pathetic, sad, and unfair. He had feelings too, he had emotions, he was a human being. Jinwoo was suddenly overcome with anger. Why couldn’t he be happy? Why?!

He should have just died with Seungyoon. He should have just ended it that same day. Seunghoon shouldn’t have found him, he shouldn’t have helped him. And Jinwoo came to terms with himself.

The world was cruel.

The world was unfair.

He did not owe it, or anyone, anything.

He had no debt, debt did not exist, not unless he allowed it to.

Why the fuck was he still miserable?

The world did not have Seungyoon. Yes. That was why he was miserable. And Seunghoon did not love him, and Jinwoo would never love Minho, so that too was pointless. Seungyoon was all that had mattered, and all that would ever matter.

He silently apologized to Seungyoon, apologized for giving up on his word, for letting him down. But somehow, he knew that if Seungyoon knew…if he knew how hard Jinwoo had tried, how hard he had fought with himself - he would understand his decision.

Seungyoon was kind, attentive, and overall understanding. That was one of Jinwoo’s favorite traits.

Yes, Seungyoon would understand.


	9. Chapter 9

Jinwoo mentioned nothing of the kiss. Neither did the other two. Everything continued like normal. Jinwoo wondered if either of them even remembered what had happened. They must have. Minho began to act different, it wasn’t hard to miss. He spoke more openly with Seunghoon, there was warmth between them, familiar, rich depth that Jinwoo would never be a part of.

It was fine. That wouldn’t matter anyways.

They couldn’t spend much time indoors, not with the heat, but the sun was too hot to spend it dillydallying by the cabin, so they would take to the river when the sun was high in the sky, when it was at its supreme, most brutal point.

“Do you think anyone has died in these waters?”

“That’s fucking gross, we water the plants with this, hyung,” Minho grumbled with a small laugh at Seunghoon’s words. Did they have a clue of how obvious they were? Probably not. Jinwoo was almost one-hundred percent sure that even if he had not seen them kiss, he would have suspected something. He would have _had_ to. It was almost insulting to his intelligence to think any differently.

Jinwoo sat quietly on a rock, swinging his legs around in the water. They were all in their underwear, since it was never really certain _what_ could actually be in the water now that it had warmed up a bit and thawed life had been injected back into the seemingly calm stream. “Jinnie, do you remember if I brought the shampoo?” Minho suddenly laughed coyly, his head looking up and down the bank, steadfast to find something that was not there. “Didn’t I give it to you?”

Jinwoo shrugged, pretended to look around. “I dunno, I thought you had it.”

Minho fake cried, slowly trudged out of the pleasant water. “I’ll go get it, I guess. We are not going to smell like river water, no way.”

“A baby,” Jinwoo teased as the younger walked off, dripping profusely through the foliage.

Once Minho’s splash-like steps disappeared in direction of the cabin, Jinwoo slowly turned to Seunghoon, who was creating little waves with his hands and really just keeping to himself. He was colder now with Jinwoo, colder than ever, and it made Jinwoo’s actions easier to go through with.

“Seung,” he began, moving away from the rock and walking deeper into the river, or as deep as they could all go without becoming submerged by the water. Seunghoon turned to him, and Jinwoo smiled, all timid and doll-like, just like all the men he had tricked liked, just like Seungyoon had once pinched his cheeks over. Seunghoon swallowed, a raise in his eyebrow.

“What?”

“You’ve been a little… weird lately,” Jinwoo told him, acting curious and mindful of anything Seunghoon could be trying to keep in - not that he didn’t already know everything. But Seunghoon didn’t know that.

“No,” Seunghoon shrugged, fake smile upturning his lips. He playfully patted Jinwoo’s waist, though there was no heat in it anymore, no want, not that Jinwoo was aware of.

Jinwoo hated him.

He stepped behind the taller man, watched droplets trickle down his back and traced them with his fingers. “Just know you can talk to me whenever.”

“Yeah,” Seunghoon turned around with a nod, pushed his wet hair back from his face, “I know.”

“Can I tell _you_ something?” Jinwoo asked, stepping closer to him.

Seunghoon made no moves to move away, but he didn’t move closer either, only watched as Jinwoo wrapped his arms around his neck and leaned in, mouth by his ear. A moment passed, Jinwoo was waiting- Seunghoon’s hands came up to grip his waist, fingertips warm and firm. Jinwoo smiled. “I know you and Minho kissed.” Seunghoon froze, but Jinwoo traveled a hand down, traced it over the lining of Seunghoon’s front. “Yeah… Minho told me. He sounded so guilty.”

“Shut up,” Seunghoon laughed breathlessly, a shake of his head, “You…of all people can’t say a thing.”

“I guess,” Jinwoo shrugged, kissed at Seunghoon’s neck. He faked a whimper, and he almost wanted to laugh at how easy it was, how quick Seunghoon picked him up to wrap his legs around his waist at the sound of that, the movement made easier by the water. Their lips met messily, tongues meeting too urgently.

Seunghoon pulled away, as if Jinwoo had magically ended up in his arms on his own, spluttered a, “We can’t…not right now.”

“It’s a twenty-minute walk in total,” Jinwoo gasped, clenching his jaw as Seunghoon gave in and slipped his hands into the back of his briefs, running his fingers along his sensitive flesh. “Out- Out of the water,” Jinwoo requested, and Seunghoon assented and carried them out onto the bank.

He pounced on the smaller male, and Jinwoo went pliant under him, let him take and take. Just one last time. Their final kiss, and Jinwoo was the only one really in control now.

It was so perfect. Seunghoon was so firm, so careless and sloppy. Perfect. Jinwoo played his part well, he let himself be manhandled, let Seunghoon hold, jut against him as roughly as he wanted, let Seunghoon pull his hair. The rougher, the better. The more shocking. The more hurtful. If his plan went well…if everything went his way, Minho would find the shampoo bottle soon, not even a quarter of the way up to the cabin, right where Jinwoo had left it. If Minho went back the exact same way they always did, retraced their exact steps, he should be coming back, he should be there any moment now, and Seunghoon had no clue. He had no idea-

Jinwoo’s hands, once tangled into Seunghoon’s hair, discreetly fell to the ground as he heard the thump of footsteps, the shuffle of leaves on the ground. Seunghoon lips froze against Jinwoo’s but it was too late, there was no pretending now.

And Jinwoo could have laughed. He loved being the bad guy for once. _To hell with this dejected, vicious world._

“What the fuck.”

Jinwoo bit back a grin, craned his head to get a look at Minho as he dramatically pushed Seunghoon away, his eyes wide in a fake stupor and surprise. “Minho!” he exclaimed, getting up onto his elbows.

_Get angry at me. Do it. Reveal how you don’t like me anymore. Ask me why the hell I’m kissing your best friend, your secret lover-_

“You fucking bastard!” Minho stormed over to Seunghoon, his fists clenched.

No, no- Jinwoo had not been counting on that reaction.

Seunghoon, who in his shock had not even risen from the ground yet, shook his head, looking back and forth between Jinwoo and Minho. He was so beautiful, glistening and tan, built like a sculpture, crafted to perfection by God. And he was scared now, too. He’d been fucked over. He seemed to understand this as his eyes locked with Jinwoo. Jinwoo didn’t feel any guilt anymore. His feelings didn’t seem to matter to anyone, why should Seunghoon’s matter to him? He was so beautiful, but that didn’t matter.

All his life, Jinwoo had been told he had a pretty face - and he was absolutely nothing now. _How does it feel, Seunghoon?_

And Minho. Minho who was like a burning star, unaware of his own power, unaware of everything. Gentle, visceral Minho. And when he _was_ aware, like he was now: unforgiving. He was the only one Jinwoo felt kind of sorry for. Especially now that he wasn’t even pinning any of the blame on Jinwoo, now that he was directing all of his rage towards Seunghoon. He was so good, maybe a little too much for his own good, and that was his only flaw. He was much too kind to Jinwoo; he didn’t deserve that.

But Jinwoo decided it wasn’t his fault Minho had blindly put his faith in him. Jinwoo let himself stoop that low, allowed himself to find comfort in that sick, selfish thought. It was the least he could do for himself. Anything that happened now was not in his control. And he would let it happen if it must.

Minho’s fist came into contact with Seunghoon’s jaw, an angry curse falling from both of their mouths as they both fell to the ground. “First you kiss _me,_ and now…why would you _do_ that to _him_? What the _fuck_ do you want?!” Minho demanded, avoiding Seunghoon’s hands that slapped against his face and chest.

That was an interesting question Jinwoo had almost hoped Seunghoon would reply honestly to. Seunghoon said nothing and only shoved Minho off him though, quickly stumbled up to a standing position. Jinwoo expected them to continue to fight, to throw another punch, but Minho…Minho began to cry, and two pairs of eyes turned to him in nervous uncertainty. “I fucking hate you,” he growled out in defeat, trying to maintain his vindictive front but his reddened features giving him away.

Jinwoo knew neither of them had any way of knowing who it was Minho was talking to, and he was awaiting his turn now, waiting for Minho to slap him or perhaps choke him to death, but the younger only glared at Seunghoon, seeming to have given up all his resolve. “I’ll never love you.” His words were like the coldest, arctic winter, so much even something in Jinwoo’s own chest shivered.

“Minho,” Seunghoon’s breath hitched, came back out in a shaky, unsteady exhale, “Don’t say that- Please.”

Jinwoo had done it. He had ruined Lee Seunghoon. Had that been his intention? He reckoned it didn’t matter now. His original motives to just be forced to leave, for things to be made easier that way - they were insignificant. It was so fucking melodramatic, so cliché, and Jinwoo was living for it. His life was a fucking movie, how cool was that? Maybe he had made something of it. And maybe he had not yet processed the pain, but it began to topple down soon enough, his euphoria. He felt it when Seunghoon turned to him, took a step in his direction. “This is all your fault…” His voice was even at first, as if he were just realizing it, but his chest began to heave, and he let out an incredulous laugh, furious, crushed, “This is ALL your fucking fault!”

The two steps he took towards where Jinwoo had cautiously began to reach for his clothes, his eyes watering and an enraged smile on his lips, were too quick for Jinwoo to process, because Seunghoon was standing before him. Jinwoo awaited a kick, and punch, it’s what he probably deserved; he wouldn’t have been surprised, coming from Seunghoon either. His expectations were not met once again, however, and when Seunghoon raised a hand, it was to point towards the cabin’s general direction, shaking and dangerous, “Get the fuck out!”

Jinwoo wanted to laugh in his face, sigh in amusement, but Minho was suddenly hauling to him to his feet, wrapping a warm arm around his shoulders, and all bite died down in him, replacing it, utter confusion. “He’s…He’s not going anywhere? Why should he? _You_ get out. You’re the one who can’t fucking control himsel-”

“Control myself?” Seunghoon scoffed, pointing at Jinwoo in disbelief. “You know the day you were sick? In the winter? We fucked. He asked me to fuck him in the backseat of the car. That’s why he was all cuddly and stupid when we got back. Remember that, Minho?”

It was curious. Seunghoon obviously loved Minho. Loved him so much it pained him, and yet…here he was. Angering Minho, making him hate Seunghoon even more. It was irrational, but it made all the sense in the world. Seunghoon was so hurt. He was so hurt, so _human,_ all he could do was try to protect himself, and unintentionally hurt the one he loved in the process.

Minho stiffened as Seunghoon spoke, his arm loosening around Jinwoo. “Jinwoo? Wait, i-is that-”

Jinwoo stumbled away from him, swallowing thickly. This was his bit. It had finally come. He couldn’t be the victim forever could he? He stared into Minho’s eyes, not sure if he was apologizing anymore, not sure if there really was a point in that, anyways.

“He loves me, you know? He asked me to make love to him,” Seunghoon laughed, and that hurt _way_ more than it should have. “Whenever I fuck him, he cries. It’s kind of cute.”

“That’s not true,” Minho snapped, but even he seemed to know there was no use.

“Yeah. Yeah, it is,” Seunghoon sighed. He licked his lips, eyes trained on the ground. He finally looked at Jinwoo, shot a wicked smile his way though he still spoke to Minho, “And you were the only one that loved him, and now I doubt you want to even look at him.”

“I guess we’re all the same, then,” Jinwoo said slowly. He turned away from the two, picked up his clothes. It was done, he had no reason to be there anymore. “Sorry it had to be this way, you know. You guys were really nice.” He couldn’t have looked their way as he spoke even if he’d tried. Maybe he would have broken down into a sob, apologized. No, Jinwoo was done being sorry, both for himself and for others. He was done with absolutely everything, for that matter. “Thank you, though. You made me realize a lot of things.”

“Where are you going?” Minho immediately asked, and Jinwoo did not miss the way he still seemed to care, still gave a fuck.

“Just give it up!” Jinwoo shouted, shoulders shuddering. He balled his clothes up in his fists, “Forget about me…okay? You can’t come where I’m going anyways.”

“Jinwoo-” But Jinwoo rushed away from the two men before he could be stopped, went up the small incline towards the trail that lead back to the cabin. He wanted to laugh and cry, all at the same time. He felt liberated, he felt free, but there was still one more thing to do.

He changed quickly into his clothes when he reached the cabin. Tucking his hair back behind his ears, he began to search the drawers. Seunghoon always kept the car keys in one of them, but in his haze of thoughts, it took him two sets too many to finally find them, the metal shining before his eyes.

Would they come looking for him? He didn’t know. Frankly, he didn’t care. He didn’t take anything with him besides the keys. When he reached the car, his heart was pounding in his throat. He had not driven in so long; it was exhilarating when the engine came to life. Carefully, he began to drive out in direction of the road. He didn’t notice when the tears began to stream down his face, but when the road became hard to see through his clouded vision, he decided it was probably best to pull to a stop.

He’d made it a good ten miles, at the very least. There was no way they could reach him. Jinwoo leaned his head back with a deep exhale, stared at the window above his head. He reached a hand up, pushed it open. A soft breeze filtered through, shifting his now drying hair. Beautiful. The sky was beautiful.

He counted in his head. There was no telling, not even to himself, what it was he was counting honestly. Maybe it was so calm himself, a soothing mechanism.

His mind roamed. Seungyoon smiled behind his eyelids. “I miss you,” he said aloud, not crying anymore. He was happy. Seungyoon was in his mind, therefore he was happy. He couldn’t be sad anymore. “I miss you so much, Yoonie.” The glove compartment clawed at his peripheral vision. “I’ve been so lonely without you. You have no clue…” His fingers pressed against the button to open it, and it fell, heavy with the weight of Seunghoon’s gun. “I’m tired of not seeing your face. I feel like I’m going fucking crazy every second that passes and you’re not here.”

He pulled the gun out, felt the weight of it in his hands. It had been scary to look at. It was even scarier to hold. He hadn’t a single clue to even begin to understand how to use it. Jinwoo had only seen guns in movies, so he gave himself a bit of credit. There was always the safety, he took that off, or at least assumed that he did.

Whatever happened would happen, whatever happened would happen.

Cocking it made his stomach jolt harder than it had in a very long time. His heart skipped a beat, pounded against his ribs as if demanding to be let out. “I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” Jinwoo stated, figuring he owed it himself to be _honest_ with himself for once.

Jinwoo pressed the barrel against side if his head. It was cold, it made him feel human, alive. He never thought he’d put a gun to his head. He tried different parts of his head, his neck, in his mouth. He had no clue, not a single one. Which would hurt less? Fuck if he knew.

The world around him dimmed until the sun began to set at some point. Had he taken that long already? Jinwoo frowned at his own indecisiveness. The setting sun burned red, made everything the horizon touched look like it was set ablaze. It looked like hell. Earth had become hell, and Jinwoo reminded himself that he was probably on his way to real hell. There was no way Seungyoon was in hell, if it existed. He was in heaven. Jinwoo was so sure of it. All of the years he’d spent with his nose rammed into a bible, they had all helped him come to the certain conclusion that people like him went to hell, but that people like Seungyoon definitely went to heaven. Maybe he would see him at least one more time.

Who knew though?

Whatever happened would happen, whatever happened would happen.

After another hour of analyzing his options, Jinwoo figured firing into his mouth was the only way he could be sure he would die. What if when he pressed it to his neck or head, his hand slipped, and he was left agonizing until he died of blood loss? He shivered at the thought. Yes, the mouth was most practical.

He still didn’t know how to use the gun. Oh, he didn’t even know if it had any bullets in the clip. Was it a clip? What type of gun was it anyways? Did it matter?

He sighed, reclined the seat back, and laid there. Should he sleep once last time? It had been a while since he’d had a good night’s sleep. He wished he could go back to his apartment with Seungyoon, sleep in their bed one last time, but there was just no way he’d make it that far, and maybe he’d regret going through with all of…this. But, really, there was no actual plan.

He knew Seunghoon had shot a few rounds, but he also knew there was more than likely at least _one_ more shot to fire. He had no way of knowing, he didn’t want to mess the gun up, what if he couldn’t put it back together anymore? It was such a mystery, such a surprise, he didn’t want to ruin it.

For a moment, Jinwoo allowed himself to cry. The more Seungyoon trickled into his mind, the more tears did the same down his face. His face felt swollen. Somehow, he thought of Minho and Seunghoon. Minho… He thought of when he would cry at night, apparently to no one’s knowing, and how a warm pair of arms would almost always be there to wrap around him, a deep voice to tell him it was all okay. What a selfish brat Jinwoo had been. Yes, that was him. That was him now, and he’d probably die as such. Well.

There was Seunghoon, too. God damn him… Jinwoo couldn’t help the smile that etched onto his face at both the care Minho had for him, and the complete opposite Seunghoon regarded him with. Seunghoon had actually helped, somehow. Hardened Jinwoo. Given him some resolve.

It was all kind of funny, in a sick, angering way. Seunghoon had saved him, Jinwoo had thought once. He’d been his savior, his light. And now…Now he had made Jinwoo realize that dying didn’t seem all that terrible anymore.

But did it?

Of course it did. His survival instinct was pumping all sorts of brain chemicals through his veins and body, screaming that killing himself was the _last_ thing he needed to do. He needed to live, obviously! He was a functioning, healthy organism. To end his life would be to interrupt its natural, biological process.

_“It’s instinct, Seunghoon.”_

_“Yeah, but not everyone follows that instinct... Some people do what they deem fit.”_

Jinwoo thought about that for a moment. He was doing what he deemed fit, now, he supposed.

In turn, he would not age, like his father or mother, not even like his older sisters. He missed his family, he hadn’t even considered them. How horrible. And they would never get a chance to speak to each other. Jinwoo would never get the opportunity to ask if they were proud of how he’d turned out.

Where were they? Did they still hate him?

Jinwoo would never know. He sighed again, another weight on his chest.

He would not see another sunrise if he died that day. Wow. It was horrifying, yet astonishing. Sort of like thinking about what their universe was within, something grand and scary like that. Abstract, impalpable. Every time he looked up at the open window in the rooftop of the car, the sky became darker. The sun was gone. He remembered that time when the sun had left, when the moon had left, and that Seungyoon had also left with them.

His mind drifted to the night in the woods. It felt so long ago, and even more so, it felt like he was watching a film. He wanted to cry in sorrow now for that scared boy. Spare him, he’s innocent. Please. He was so scared, so afraid of dying. Dying seemed so impossible to understand, even then, even after Seungyoon had stopped existing. It was every corner, lurking in every dark crevice on their earth. Fantastic. Such a mystery. Jinwoo wasn’t sure what exactly had changed in him from the boy of that moment to where he found himself now.

And, wow, would not see the rain fall. He would not experience that next winter, the snow. He would not hear the river flow again, or any river. He would not hear another person’s voice, he would not feel anyone’s touch, he would die alone. He was very much alone.

It was a similar sensation to the one he had felt that night in the woods, with the hands wrapped around his neck, except now he was in control, while then, it had seemed so unjust, so slanted. He had not wanted to die then. He had been so true to his promise to Seungyoon then. But now he was in charge of his own end. He would be the one to choose whether to put an end to it all or not.

His eyes prickled again as he considered that former thought again. Oh, God…he was alone. It suddenly felt like when Seungyoon died all over again. And maybe that would help. He thought of how he had felt that morning, that lonely, sad morning, how miserable and beaten to nothing he had been.

Yes, it helped.

Jinwoo parted his lips. The moonlight reflected on the gun’s metal. No, the moon would join him tonight, at least. Perhaps it had not joined Seungyoon, because it knew he’d had Jinwoo by his side that night. “How kind of you.”

The gun slipped past his lips. He must look ridiculous - but he couldn’t make jokes now. He had to be serious.

Seungyoon. On the floor. Seungyoon. Not moving, not breathing. Cold, so cold. It helped, it helped so much, encouraged him, pushed him closer to the edge. Closer, _closer_ until his feet were threatening to lose balance, threatening to hurl him off into the abyss. Seungyoon’s final heartbeats Jinwoo had been able to catch that night before sleep had stolen him away thumped in his very soul. If he concentrated, he could think of that moment, and align his heartbeats with Seungyoon’s.

They were strong and steady in his memory, so unlike his own now, so unlike _Jinwoo_. Seungyoon had always been braver than him. His heart had strummed like his fingers against his guitar, constant, calm. Seungyoon was calamity. Seungyoon was an empty shore, or maybe the waves against the sand, back and forth, at ease. Beautiful.

Jinwoo could not ease the shaking in his chest.

The beats counted again, thrummed against his head, his throat, his stomach, his wrists. His fingers curled around the trigger. Seungyoon’s heart, his beautiful heart, became one with his own, finally.

At last!

He cried, filled with joy at this realization, with hope, like Seungyoon’s being had descended from its perch high above and was now holding him. It held his hand, it led his way.

_You are the light of my life._

Jinwoo’s breath stuttered, but his heart finally calmed. They were in sync, and they thrummed as one. From three, to two, to one, to zero, to nothing.

To nothing.

Jinwoo was not afraid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading~ leave feedback if you would like to, i would appreciate it a lot. tytyty!!!


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